


Where We Stand

by lolalexi_tfw



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Some Characters Are Mentioned By Name Only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-06-06 10:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolalexi_tfw/pseuds/lolalexi_tfw
Summary: Marcia is investigating a lead involving a kidnapping case. The last thing she expects to find is The Devil of Hells Kitchen bleeding out on the floor. It seems they're both after the same thing, but one of them only has half the story. Can two people who usually work alone team up and figure this out?





	1. It Started With A Lead

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic on ao3 and also in this particular fandom! I've watched Daredevil s1 and have gotten started on s2. I've been working on ideas for this story for awhile now and I'm really excited about it! I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome.

Marcia was the kind of person who liked to think of all the possible outcomes of a situation. Overthink, some of her friends and allies would say. It was much better to be prepared than surprised, she would reply. However, Marcia was far from being a fool. There would always be variables that would present themselves after a mission was underway.

For example, one such ‘variable’ was currently unconscious on her sofa. A huge one. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself.

Marcia had seen him on TV, in the papers. The accusations that had been flung at him...she wasn’t sure she believed it all. Especially now, with the events that happened earlier that evening.

The people she was after were some of the worst. People that had a part in her being held captive and experimented on for five years of her life. Recently, Marcia found out that she wasn’t the only one, which caused an anger to rise inside of her that had been hard to contain. The thought of anyone else going through what she did made her want to vomit. So she’d been working the case, virtually nonstop. A culmination of leads and intel led her to the warehouse that was not as abandoned as you’d think by looking at it. Marcia found several henchmen already unconscious, and further up she found this man. He had been surrounded by three men with knives and badly injured, falling to a knee as they circled him.

Marcia intervened, using her powers and fighting skills to defeat them. As she heard sirens in the distance, she grabbed the now unconscious man and surrounded them with a barrier before jumping out of the five story window. Taking convoluted backways and using most of her energy to shield and carry him took its toll on her, but she was thankful to have been there.

Fast forward to several hours later, he was stitched up and passed out while she brewed some tea in the kitchen. Her body tensed at every movement and groan she heard from the living room, waiting to see if he would wake up anytime soon. It wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t, given his injuries and blood loss. Deep slashes across his chest, abdomen, shoulder and back. A gash above his right eye. Not to mention the colorful bruises that were rapidly showing up on his body.

Marcia stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea as she made her way to the kitchen table and sat down. Her limbs were heavy with exhaustion, as if she was trying to walk through chest deep water with weights attached to them. Marcia gently sipped her tea, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as the almost too warm liquid went down her throat.

Her gaze fell to the folder in front of her. It contained the information she had gathered so far, along with the few leads given to her by Director Fury. Her eye twitched when she thought about owing him again. Him and his team had already saved her life, aided in her recovery and helped her get back on her feet.

In return, Marcia fought for them. Well in actuality, she fought for New York and the innocent people that lived here, but it had been sufficient enough for Fury to declare them ‘even’. She didn't mind helping (and paying her debt) but she wasn't going to be apart of his initiative.

Marcia needed time to live. To breathe. To be in control of herself again. After being treated like a fucking lab rat for years, taking orders from some secret government group couldn't have been less appealing to her.

So when Fury contacted her out of nowhere over a month ago in Virginia, Marcia thought she was going to have to give him the door to door salesman treatment, except the ‘no thank you’ wouldn't be so polite. Instead, he gave her the folder she was now staring at. He couldn't spare any people on this, he had said, and he figured she'd want to work this anyway.

Fury gave her a decent chunk of money, and Marcia tried to decline. Fury shook his head. “The first conversation we had, I told you that I'd do whatever I could to get to the bottom of this. Well it turns out the bottom is a lot deeper than that one lab you were at, and I'm a man of my word. So take it.”

So she reluctantly took it, and shortly after that, found herself in New York once again.

Marcia sipped her tea and flipped the folder open, reading over information in case there was anything she missed. She spares a glance to the sofa, listening to the mans breathing, and sighs. It would be nice to have someone else on this with her, but she wouldn't get her hopes up.


	2. And You Are? Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Marcia get properly introduced, and Matt learns some interesting things about his rescuer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the story is off to a good yet slow start. The next couple chapters won't have a much in terms of action, but I wanted to explore these characters personalities a bit. I hope you enjoy the banter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Also, it was hard to choose a good cut off point so it kind of just ends lol

Her eyes shot open as she heard a loud groan and rustling coming from the sofa. Apparently she had fallen asleep at some point, she realized, as her head moved up from her arm that had been outstretched on the table. The clock on the wall told her that it was barely 3am. Messy dark brown hair appeared over the top of the sofa, the man seemingly trying to look around. His head jerked toward the direction of where Marcia was now standing.

“Where...where am I...ugh.”, he groans in a low voice as he slings an arm over the back of the sofa to keep himself up.

Marcia strides into the living room and stands next to him, giving him space much like you would a wounded animal. “A safe place.”, she replies, her tone soft. “You’ve been badly injured, you shouldn’t move around too much.”

She watches the man as he keeps his head tilted toward her, eyes staring upward. His head was moving ever so slightly in different directions, like he was hearing something that she couldn’t. His hand then flew to his face, trying to feel for the black mask that was no longer there. Instead he touches the bandaged cut above his right eye and flinches.

“I apologize. I had to remove your mask so I could patch you up. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”, Marcia explained, smiling faintly.

“I have to...I have to go, I need to-URGH.” He tries to lean over and get up when he suddenly goes rigid from the pain.

Well. He was a stubborn one.

“You aren't going anywhere, not like this.” Marcia damn near pleads as she places her palm on one of the very few spots on his chest that isn’t injured. “Restraining you would really put a damper on the whole ‘saving your life’ thing, so don’t make me do it.”

The man sighs heavily and attempts to relax, as much as one can when waking up in a strange place. He lays back down and turns his head toward Marcia, deep brown eyes not quite meeting her amber green gaze. Realization dawns on her. His pupils weren't responsive earlier, and there was no way in hell anyone could see out of that mask. Suddenly she is filled with questions, that she keeps to herself for now.

“You saved my life…”, he says quietly, voice still rough from unconsciousness. He barely remembers what happened before he passed out. All he knew is that he was trying to fight, then he woke up here. He tilts his head to the side curiously. “Who are you?”

Marcia stays quiet for a few seconds, thinking. They were obviously on the same side of this situation, so why the hell not. “My name is Marcia...and to answer your earlier question, you’re at my apartment in Midtown East.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “That warehouse was on the West Side. How did you get me out of there? And why were you there in the first place?”

“Whoa, slow down.”, Marcia replied. “We obviously have a lot to talk about, but first I need to check your stitches.” She pauses. “If I may?”

He nods after a brief moment, his tongue darting out across dry lips, the bottom one busted. “Yeah...okay. After all, you are the reason that there was anything left to stitch up.”

“I’m only glad I showed up at the right time.” She stands up, and after getting a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth from the kitchen, she returns to the living room and carefully kneels down next to the couch. The man had already moved the blanket down to his hips, revealing the rest of his battered torso. She snaps on a fresh pair of medical gloves as she gives him a once over.

If Marcia hadn't shown up...shit. Those men would have kept hacking until nothing was left, she was certain of it. A quiet sigh of relief escapes her as she leans forward to inspect her work.

“You didn’t think I was gonna make it.”, he states as easily as if he had commented on the time of day and not his life being at stake.

Marcia opens her mouth to respond and nothing comes out at first, the whole thing catching her off guard. “I...wasn’t sure. You lost a lot of blood. I stabilized you the best I could, but then I had to get you here-”

“Still curious about that, by the way.”, he interjects.

Marcia can’t help the smirk that curls her lip. “I haven’t forgotten… and trust me, I have questions of my own.” He nods and goes quiet, gazing upward at the ceiling. She places the cloth in the water and squeezes out the excess, gently dabbing some dried blood away from a particularly nasty stab wound on the right side of his abdomen. “Is there a name I can address you by? I mean I can call you Devil if you want. Or is it Mr. Devil?”

He chuckles and immediately regrets it as his abdomen seizes up. “Ow, damn it…” He goes quiet, and Marcia glances at his face. He was thinking about it, which was understandable. She had already seen his face and was now asking for a name. When she was about to suggest a fake name they could use, he answers. “Matt.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Matt. Circumstances suck, though.”, Marcia says while inspecting the slash across his left pec. It wasn't too deep, thankfully. She blows a stray strand of hair out of her face and moves closer still, making sure the stitching was passable.

“Nice to meet you, too, Marcia.”, Matt responds as he relaxes back into the pillow and closes his eyes. He tries not to focus on how much his body hurts or the fact that his anger almost got him killed tonight. Or on the pleasant scent of lavender and vanilla coming from the woman inspecting his chest. He isn't successful with the last one and finally starts drifting off into a light meditative state. A few moments pass when he realizes that she was trying to talk to him.

He opens his eyes. “Hm, sorry. What did you say?”

“I was only commenting on how lucky you are that you don’t have any broken ribs. They’re definitely bruised, though.” Marcia lightly trails her thumb underneath the wound on his right side, her brows furrowing with concern. “This one is deep... I can’t properly tell how bad the damage is without more high tech medical equipment.”

“No hospitals.”, Matt says firmly, shaking his head for emphasis.

“I know, but if you get worse…” Marcia takes a deep breath in and lets it out in a heavy sigh. Was she really going to make this offer to him? Of course she was. “I know a place we can go if we have to. It would be discreet.”

“Sounds like a place you aren't too fond of.”

“It’s...a long story. Hopefully it's a chip that we won't have to cash in.”

Matt turns his head toward her, gaze moving to the vicinity of her chin. “Hopefully. I'm currently satisfied with my doctor.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint, tired smile.

Marcia leans back, her eyes briefly flicker to the dimple that appears on his cheek. She hums, amused. “Keep that in mind when you get my bill, hm?” His smile grows, and Marcia finds herself surprised with the sudden banter. He seemed quite the easygoing sort for someone who came so close to death. Judging from a few of his other scars, maybe it wasn’t the first time. “So there’s a couple of cuts on your back I’d like to look at. Do you need help sitting up?”

“I think I can manage.”, he replies softly.

Nevertheless, Marcia rested her hand on his shoulder just in case. Matt made it about half way before he let out a pained groan, sweat breaking out over his forehead as his body reminded him just how close of a call it was tonight.

“Here.” Marcia said simply, yet the word was laced with sympathy. Keeping her left hand on his shoulder, she braced her right arm on the other side of his and gently grabbed his arm near the elbow. “Let me help you.”

Matt picked up on her intentions and sighed, took a few calming breaths, then grabbed her arm and pulled himself up the rest of the way. Using her as leverage lessened the pain considerably. While she was able to hold his weight with relative ease, she was trembling from head to toe. 

Worry raced like ice through his veins. What if she had to fight her way through to him? He focuses all of his available senses on her, a deep frown etched into his face as he listens to her heart. “Are you alright?”

Marcia chuckles and shakes her head. “Really? You’re asking me if I’m alright?”

“You’re...when you helped me up just now...you were shaking.” He can feel her tense up and he pauses. “Also...your heartbeat. It’s a bit labored. Slow.” Matt went quiet, waiting for her reaction.


	3. And You Are? Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Marcia get properly introduced, Matt learns some interesting things about his rescuer.

Marcia didn't respond right away. Instead, she got to her feet and side stepped so she was now behind Matt and places her hand over her heart. Yeah, it was slowly beating along, this wasn't new to her. How the hell could he _hear_ it though? Or _feel_ her body recovering from her power usage? These were internal things, at least internal enough that they shouldn’t be observed so casually.

“You're a perceptive one, aren't you?” She means for her tone to be lighter, but it comes off rather flat.

“You could say that.”

Marcia bites at her bottom lip while inspecting the bandage on his shoulder blade. It was hard to be annoyed with him when he sounded genuinely concerned. “It's another long story, but I'm fine. Really.”

Matt nods, most of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Well by doctors orders, I'm not going anywhere for a little while.”

Damn it. She walked right into that one.

“Well...shit.” Not the dignified response she was going for, but okay. “How about I tell you how I rescued you, since it ties into that? Then you can tell me how you do the things that you can apparently do. Deal?”

She lets him think about it while she continues her exam. “An equal exchange of information seems fair to me.”, he answers after a moment.

Marcia clears her throat. She wasn't sure what had her more nervous, telling him about herself or his possible reaction. _Well, here goes nothing._ “I have...abilities. I can draw on and manipulate an energy source. Specifically, Earth’s electromagnetic field.” She briefly looks up when his head turns more to the side, his curiosity piqued. “I can use it to enhance myself; move faster, hit harder, jump further. I can also create barriers.”

Matt tilts his head up, trying to think through the fog that his brain was residing in. “At the warehouse, before I passed out. The air around me was...wavy. Like ripples in water. Was that you?”

“Sounds right, yeah.”

“That’s...remarkable.” Matt responds.

The awe in his voice is palpable, and Marcia’s brain freezes up. Even though there was clearly more to him than meets the eye, she was expecting more apprehension. Even fear. Those were feelings she was used to when it came to her abilities.

“Yeah, well...it gets the job done most days.”, she stumbles a reply, suddenly feeling awkward. Marcia stands up and pats his shoulder to signal that he can lay back down. She also takes the opportunity to get a better look at his face. If he was actually shocked or apprehensive in any way, he wasn’t showing it. Given how well he could read her, she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t frustrating. “Everything looks good. Don’t worry, I won’t make you move around like that again. At least for awhile.”

Matt settles for sitting up against the pillow instead of laying completely flat, while Marcia grabs the bowl and cloth and takes them to the kitchen. While she cleans up, she takes deep, steadying breaths into her lungs. Talking about her abilities wasn’t her usual topic of conversation when first meeting a person. However, this also wasn’t an ordinary situation. If they were after the same people, then working together was possibly on the table. Trust would need to be there, too. 

Something Marcia had to learn already and still had issues with, it seemed.

After a few moments, she comes back into the living room and holds out one of two bottles of water to Matt. “Here’s some water. You must be thirsty, I’m a _terrible_ hostess.” Marcia said in jest, trying to lighten the mood. She watches as he takes the bottle directly out of her hand, much like she thought he would. After setting the extra bottle down on the table, she resumes her seat in the armchair. 

“Making sure a stranger doesn’t bleed out all over your nice sofa is distracting, I’m sure.” Matt unscrews the cap and gulps almost half the bottle before lowering it with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you. So, you...shielded me. That had to have pissed them off...they didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No, they didn’t. They weren’t thrilled about the barrier around you, though. They slashed at it for awhile, then they came after me when they realized I was there. I knocked them out.”

Matt’s eyebrows move upward. “Then what happened?”

Marcia hesitates for a moment, shifting in her seat before leaning forward. “I...picked you up. Surrounded us in a barrier and jumped out of the window. I could hear the cops coming, and I had to get you out of there fast. Figured the hospital wasn't a good idea, given what's been going on...”

Matt opens his mouth in shock, looking in her direction again. “I was on the fifth floor.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it was a soft landing.”, she responded simply, as if jumping out of windows was a natural occurrence for her. Well, it wasn't _abnormal_.

Matt shifts around to get more comfortable, hissing through his teeth and holding his side. He still somehow manages to sound amused. “Oh, well, that's a relief. So how does this explain your condition?”

“Right. So this energy source. Think of it like a giant rechargeable battery. A lot of power, but even it needs time to recharge.” Matt levels his gaze on her. “I used a lot of energy to get you to safety. I couldn’t risk the possibility of getting caught, so I did what I had to.”

“So it is because of me…” The words slip out of his mouth so softly that she almost doesn't hear them. His gaze moves around the room and if Marcia didn't know any better, he wore the distinct expression of someone thinking about taking off. Shit.

Before she fully realizes it, Marcia is firmly placing her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, this isn't your fault. I'm a grown woman and I made a decision. That's it. My body is just...wired a bit differently than a normal person. I'll be fine.” His expression lightens a fraction but she doesn't let up. “Matt...I appreciate your concern. You seem like a decent guy, and it’s obvious that you give a shit. You and I, we help people. It’s what we do, right?” She pauses to see if he will say anything, but surprisingly, he stays quiet. Marcia presses on. “I don’t like accepting help, either. Help means putting others at risk. But...sometimes, we need it.” Her voice gets softer and when she realizes that her hand is still on his shoulder, she goes to move it. 

In the blink of an eye, Matt’s hand is resting over hers, warm and calloused. It made Marcia jump. Even beat to hell, he was fast. “I...you....” He shakes his head as if that will help clear it, exhaling loudly from his nose. Marcia watched as his jaw clenched tightly and a pang of sympathy went through her. “Thank you. For saving my life.”

“I’m glad I could help, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”, Marcia responds and gently slips her hand out from under his.

“Speaking of heartbeats. You’re sure you’ll be-”

“I’m sure. Just need to recharge my battery.”  
Marcia winks, wanting to reassure him that it would be alright, and he smiles. It's an exhausted smile however, and she knows it wouldn’t be right to bombard him with her questions right now. “So don’t think you’ve been spared from share time or anything, but you need to rest. I could probably catch a few hours of sleep myself, then we can get down to business.” She reaches to the table and picks up two small bottles she had there.

Matt reaches up and rubs his forehead. “I have to go to work soon…”

“Oh, no no no. And open up all these stitches I worked so hard on? You need a few days rest from vigilante-ing, at the very least.”

Matt chuckles and clutches his abdomen. “I mean my normal job.”

“Ah. Well, that’s still a no. You can call out sick later.” Her voice took on a harder edge than she meant to, but she wanted to make herself clear; he needed rest. Marcia shakes some pills out into her palm. “Hand, please.”

Matt doesn’t have the energy to protest (which is good because she has the energy to argue) and he holds his hand out.

Marcia gently places her hand on the side of his wrist and deposits a few pills into his palm. “Advil...and an antibiotic. I also have something stronger if you want.”

“No...this should be fine.” Matt tosses the pills back and washes them down with the rest of his water.

Marcia takes the empty bottle from him. “There’s an extra bottle of water on the table. From the end of the couch, the bathroom is straight down that hallway, first door on the right. If you need me, hollar.”

Matt carefully shifts downward so he's laying on the pillow again, and he was already starting to drift off when Marcia gets to her feet and helps pull the blanket up over him. “Thanks…”, he says softly.

“You’re welcome.”, she replies quietly. Realizing she had forgotten the bandage on his head, she reaches down and gently brushes some hair away from his forehead so she could get a better look. As Marcia smooths out some of the tape, Matt's eyes open halfway and his gaze lands on the side of her face.

Crap, she must have woken him up. “Sorry.”, she whispers, smiling apologetically. He doesn't respond, but he also doesn't look annoyed. Serene, maybe? Well at least he was getting more comfortable here, that was a good thing. “Goodnight, Matt.” Marcia tosses the bottle into the recycling bin and makes her way to her room.

She doesn't hear Matt say goodnight in return before drifting off.


	4. Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt tells his side of the story, and is offered a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Matt's POV

Foggy was, quite simply, pissed.

Matt knew that he had every logical reason to be, and that he was perfectly entitled to (what Matt saw as) illogical reasons, too. As few as they were. He also knew that his best friend in the entire world was worried for him, and he wasn’t just talking about physical health. When Foggy had found out about his double life in the unfortunate way that he did, Matt tried so hard to make him _understand_ why he put on the mask damn near every night. It was one of the few times that Matt was thankful he couldn’t see his face. Things had been tense between them for weeks afterward, but lately it had been better, a slight undercurrent that was barely noticeable most of the time instead of the massive tidal wave it had been.

Foggy was smart, sometimes it was scary just how so. So when Matt called him later that morning with the thrashed burner phone in his pocket, he knew before he dialed the first number that it wasn’t going to go well. Matt still sounded like he had been thrown from a building, and no amount of easy banter was going to mask that. Not from Foggy.

So, yes, Foggy was pissed. Matt gave him every reassurance that he was okay, that he got help, yes he was being taken care of, no he wasn’t lying, yes he knew that he was a fucking _asshat_ sometimes. By the end of the conversation, Foggy was still mad, but also relieved that Matt was mostly okay. When he finally moves the phone away from his ear and flips it closed, he lets out a giant sigh as if he had been holding his breath the entire time.

It was a weird combination of feelings. A part of him was glad that he didn’t have this secret he was keeping from his best friend anymore. He didn’t have to lie and make up stories about the random cuts and bruises he’d have almost every day. At one point, Matt was sure that Foggy thought he was hitting the sauce a little too hard and was incredibly ‘clumsy’ as a result. On the other hand, Foggy _knew_. Knew what he did when the sun went down, knew that his fists were connecting with the faces and limbs of some of the worst people in the city and not just a punching bag. Matt couldn’t imagine their roles being reversed...but he had to do what he felt was right.

And that was the reason that his time with Marcia had been so...nice.

Someone else that seemed to _understand_ why he did what he did. No judgement one way or the other. Of course she had been concerned...there was the not so tiny issue of him almost bleeding out, but she seemed to get where he was coming from. Matt didn’t know her well enough to make any solid judgments of character, but what she put herself through to get him to safety? That one was huge for him.

He wanted to get to know her better, and he found himself hoping that she felt the same way.

After a few moments of sitting in the relative quiet of the morning, his head turns toward the hallway. He hears soft blankets shifting around and feet stepping down to the carpeted floor. He can also hear a few choice words being muttered crankily, and he can’t help but smile, amused.

There’s more movement for awhile, then Marcia emerges out of the hallway. She's holding laundry, judging from the crisp and fresh scent.

“Mornin’.”, Marcia says, or rather mumbles before stifling a yawn behind her free hand.

“Good morning.”, Matt replies and carefully gets to his feet, grimacing as his abdomen protests against the movement. “Did you sleep well?”

She offers a ‘mmhm’ in response along with a nod of her head. It was becoming clearer to him that she wasn’t much of a morning person. “You? Feelin’ okay?”

“Marginally better, yes.”

“Better is good.” Marcia says as she takes a few steps closer. Bleary eyes scan over him and she extends her arm, the cloth touching his chest. “Here. Figured you wouldn't want to walk around without a shirt on all day.”

Matt clutches the offered items and arranges them over his arm, running his other hand over the soft fabric. “I suppose not.”

He can feel her carefully watching what he's doing. She’s curious and brimming with questions she's probably had since earlier this morning. When his hand moves to the second article of clothing, she speaks up. “Um, it’s a grey hoodie and black workout pants. They should fit, the pants are pretty baggy.”

Matt nods, not surprised by her detailed description of the items. She was obviously smart enough to put the pieces together that he didn't possess traditional sight. “You said the bathroom was that way?” He points toward the hallway.

“Yeah. In the top drawer of the vanity on the left, there’s a smooth plastic bag filled with travel sized stuff. Toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, all kinds of things. You have multiple stitched up wounds, so a shower is out of the question until at least tomorrow. But there’s wash cloths in the cabinet next to the shower, lower shelf, if you want to clean up. Keep the stitched areas dry but if you do get them wet, pat them dry, don’t rub. Ah...” Marcia trails off and shifts on her feet, putting her hands into the pockets of her cotton shorts. She smiles shyly. “Sorry. You probably know all of that already.”

Matt shakes his head, his lips turning up into a kind smile. “No need to apologize. You seem like you know your stuff.”

Marcia shrugs. “Picked up things here and there. I kind of had to.” She pauses, looking away from him. “Not a fan of hospitals, either.”

Her body language spoke volumes to him, but he wasn’t going to pry. He does, however, focus more on her heartbeat, curiosity and concern getting the better of him. Her heart was at a resting rate since she just woke up, and it didn’t sound like it was having such a hard time pumping blood like it did before. Relief washes over him. It wasn’t that Matt didn’t believe her reassurances, but hearing it for himself was comforting. “Well, you do good work.” His smile falters and he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “You’ve already done so much for me, I feel bad about asking this, but...do you have a pair of sunglasses I could possibly borrow?”

Marcia blinks a few times, it was a request she wasn’t expecting. As she thought about it though, she could take a guess as to why. “Oh! Yeah. Go get dressed and I’ll get you a pair.”

He reaches out and gently touches her bare arm, the skin warm and soft underneath his fingers. “Thank you, Marcia…”

“Of course.”, she responds softly as he lowers his hand and she starts moving toward the kitchen. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee...please.” Matt turns his head in her direction as she leaves the room, then slowly makes his way to the bathroom. Wondering how he would ever be able to repay such kindness.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you’re blind, and your other senses…”, Marcia twirls the fork that’s in her right hand, making a circle in the air as she tries to think of the right word. “Commingle data that you pick up together, and you use that to form a mental picture of what you sense around you?”

Matt adjusts the blue tinted, rounded rectangle lenses that now adorned his face. “Yes, that’s an accurate way to put it.”

“Well I had to put it that way. You used way too many big words for how early it is, and my coffee hasn’t even kicked in yet.” Marcia smirks over her mug of coffee before taking a sip.

“I think ‘commingle’ is a decent sized word.” Matt replies and Marcia huffs as she tries not to laugh. The sound hits him dead center and he hides his own grin behind a forkful of food.

They’re sitting in the living room, Marcia cross legged in the same armchair from the previous night, and Matt at the end of the couch closest to her. While Matt had cleaned himself up, Marcia made breakfast. He didn’t know how hungry he was until the smells coming from the kitchen made his stomach feel like it was trying to eat itself. So now, they conversed over plates of bacon, eggs and pancakes, with coffee and orange juice.

“I’ve heard of the other senses getting stronger when one is lost, but...that’s incredible.”, Marcia says after a moment and glances over at him thoughtfully.

“It’s gets the job done most days.”, Matt recites her line from the night before and casually brings his coffee mug to his lips, playing innocent all too well.

“I’m sure it does.” Marcia tries to sound serious, but amusement slips into her tone. A dimpled smirk is his only response.

They fall into an easy silence other than the slight clinking of forks on their plates. Every once in awhile, Matt can feel Marcia’s gaze on him but he pretends not to notice. She was shifting around in her seat quite a bit, as well. He was expecting the questions she had for him, but she was hesitating for some reason. It had been difficult for her to talk about herself and her abilities, but she had trusted him with it anyway. Their agreement had been ‘an equal exchange of information’ and it was his turn to deliver.

He slowly leans forward and sets his plate down on the table, then sits up as straight as his battered torso will allow him to. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Marcia chuckles and runs her hand through her hair. “There’s plenty of things I'd like to ask you. Most of them are usually conversations that people have when they’ve known each other longer than a day.”

“Makes sense.”, Matt says. Marcia had seen his face, heard his real name and learned of most of his abilities in less than twelve hours. It was as far from a normal occurrence as he could get, and he imagined it was the same for her. “And the other things?”

Marcia leans forward and sets her plate down next to Matt’s. When she leans back, she crosses her right leg over her left. “Well...now that your life isn't in immediate danger and we’ve shared some things with one another, we should talk about the issue at hand.” Marcia began as she clasped her hands together in her lap. “Why were you at that warehouse last night?”, she asks curiously.

Just like that, the energy in the room shifts to a more serious tone. Matt rests his elbows on top of his thighs and interlaced his fingers. “I’ve been looking into some missing persons cases lately. Mostly women, some children and teens. I noticed a pattern after I did some investigating...most of the people that went missing were in need of help. Women fleeing from abusive spouses with their children, drug addicts trying to get into a treatment center. Somewhere along the line, they were possibly approached by people offering a helping hand. Instead, they’re taken for who knows what kind of purpose…”

Marcia shakes her head and he can hear her teeth clench together, but otherwise she remains silent.

“I was staking out the warehouse from a nearby alley as a possible waypoint for their operation, when a black van pulled up in the back of the warehouse. They shoved a woman and two teens out of the back of it with black hoods over their heads...they were terrified.” The anger flares in his chest, throbbing pain radiating through bruised knuckles as he flexes his fingers tightly. He wanted to beat those assholes senseless all over again. “I got to them. Gave them the phone that the driver of the van had and told them to call the police in twenty minutes. To tell them everything. Then I told them to run and hide nearby and not come out until they heard police sirens or I came looking for them. Then…” Matt wills a deep breath into his lungs and exhales on a sigh. “My anger got the better of me...I shouldn’t have tried to fight my way through the building when there were so many of them, but no one was giving me the information I needed. I didn’t want anyone to get away, or risk the safety of the police. I tried to make my way out, but...I was unable to. That’s where you came in.”

Matt sets his jaw in a tight line. He had been downright reckless last night, a man truly possessed. The Devil wanted his due, and he got it in broken bones and blood. The scariest part of all this? Matt didn’t have one regret. He was alive by sheer luck and would have surely bled out otherwise, but he wouldn’t have changed-

A hand touches his knee, ripping him out of his thoughts and back to the present. He shifts his focus to Marcia briefly. Her heartbeat is stable, breathing normal. She wasn’t startled or upset by him. Thank God. Matt rubs his forehead. “Sorry...been a long couple of days.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, not for something like that.” Her tone catches him completely off guard, raw emotion seeping into her otherwise steady voice. His story must have affected her in some way, but before he can analyze any further, she’s clearing her throat. “If it helps at all, they got to safety…”, she says quietly.

He raises his eyebrows. “You saw them?”

She nods and withdraws her hand. “Yeah. When I got to street level with you, the cops had just pulled up. I peeked around the corner of the building and saw three people running towards them. Woman and a couple of teens. I wasn’t sure if it was related at the time.” 

A sigh of relief escapes him as he releases his hands, his fingers flexing to get the blood flowing through them properly again. “It does help. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course.” Marcia tips her head forward once and she’s all business once again. “So did any of them give you anything at all?”

“Another location, out by the pier. I was planning on going there later tonight.“

“Plans change.”, Marcia says firmly. It isn’t a threat or warning, he picks up on that. It comes from a place of concern, and the surprising bloom of warmth that spreads across his chest is confirmation of that. However, recalling the events of last night reminded him just how much he couldn’t afford to take a night off.

“Why were you there last night, Marcia?”, Matt asks softly, trying to bypass that particular landmine in the gentlest way he could.

Marcia sighs, the word ‘stubborn’ intermingled with it, but she drops it. For now. “Hang on.” She gets up from her seat, picks up the plates from the table, and leaves the living room. Matt listens as she places them in the sink with a clatter. On her way back, there’s a swish, something that she grabs from the table. A stack of papers?

Marcia resumes her seat. “I was there for much the same reasons as you were. People going missing...”

Matt waits for her to continue, there’s no way that’s all she was giving him. She was hesitating again...debating. After everything that’s happened? “All I want to do is help. You have to know that.”

“That isn’t the issue.” She clutches the folder a little tighter. “Matt, we’ve trusted each other with a lot in a ridiculously short amount of time, and I want to work with you on this. You deserve to have options, though.” She’s says gravely and he tilts his head toward her, listening intently to her words. “Option one; if you want to stay on the track you’re currently on, we part ways and I give you a lift home. Hopefully you fucking rest for at least a day before you go out again, but...I’m not the boss of you.”

“I appreciate your concern. What’s option two?”

Marcia pinches the bridge of her nose. Her and Foggy would get along well, he thinks. They could both talk about how much Matt drives them crazy. “We work together, and help each other out, but you have to know that the whole story goes a lot deeper than just Hell’s Kitchen. It’s even more dangerous, and I will not blame you at all if you don’t wanna be apart of it. Think about it for a while if you-”

“The second one.”, Matt answers as simply as if he was choosing which suit he wanted to wear. This was an easier decision to make, though. People needed their help, plain and simple. The thought of dropping everything and going their separate ways wasn’t appealing to him, either.

“Are you sure?”

“Very. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“ _Matt_ -” She starts to protest or scold him, it could go either way, but he stops her.

“We can help each other.”, he interrupts gently. “Given what happened last night, this may already be more than I can handle myself. And if it’s as dangerous as you say it is, then we should team up.”

Marcia is silent for a long moment, except for her heart, which is currently hammering in her chest. “Alright, but you have to swear that what I’m about to tell you, the details that I have here in my hand” She gently shakes the folder, the papers rustling together. “...do not leave this room. They stay between us.”

“You have my word.” In case that isn't sufficient, he extends his hand to her and turns his head fully in her direction. 

“...Okay.”, Marcia replies. Her hand wraps around his firmly, and after they shake on it, she flips the folder open.


	5. But Wait, There's More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcia tells Matt her mission so they can formulate a plan. She then escorts him home, and it doesn't go exactly as expected. In more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YA'LL. It has been such a long 2 1/2 weeks, between work and other things. And I won't lie, I struggled quite a bit with this chapter, and I'm still not sure if I'm 100% happy with it (It's pretty close but I know if I reworked it any more, I was going to go nuts). I wanted the anxiety/PTSD that Marcia is going through to come across in my words, which I thought would be easier at least since I struggle with the former. Overall, I like where the story is heading and I hope you do too! Please leave a comment if you'd like and let me know what you think. :)

The folder opens, and Marcia is greeted by the sight of her own face. A photo paperclipped to a detailed profile, the last thing she looked at before falling asleep at the table. Her hair had been longer then, not the layered bob it was now, and her skin was a shade most often found in a morgue. Years of no sunlight could do that to a person. Marcia didn’t know why Fury had decided to include _this_ little tidbit of information. Maybe he thought it could possibly contain some helpful clues pertaining to what was happening now. Which it did, to some extent. Or, maybe, _maybe_ , that she would feel better knowing that it was in her possession now and not his. As if Marcia wasn’t on a hard drive somewhere at HQ.

She didn’t know why she kept looking at it again, and again, and a- _fucking_ -gain. Hoping for letters to rearrange themselves and spell out something different, answers she needed like oxygen. Always just out of reach. Why did the lab blow up? Who else was there? Were there others like her there, others that... _she can’t_. Why did she survive and not…

 _Now’s not the time for this. There’s work to do._ Marcia swallows hard, willing her breakfast to stay put, and shuffles those papers to the back of the pile. While putting her thoughts in a compartment in the back of her mind, ready to be reopened again later for the millionth time.

A fraction of a moment too long has passed, and Matt is staring at her intently. Marcia was sure her breathing had been controlled, but who’s to say he didn’t hear what her heart was doing. Damn it. She opens her mouth to speak, but the _are you sure’s_ and _it isn’t too late to back out’s_ weigh heavily on her tongue. The space around her suddenly felt oppressive. She should have just taken him home and worked alone, it’s how she operated the best. It’s part of the reason why she left the others in the first place, right? The options she gave Matt weren’t really for his benefit at all...they were for her, and it was selfish for her to want help with this. She had been trying to convince herself just as much as Matt last night: _Help means putting others at risk. But...sometimes, we need it._

Marcia hazards a glance in Matt’s direction and gazes at the bandage on his forehead. He was already involved, whether she wanted him to be or not.

“Marcia? What’s wrong?”

His voice was impossibly steady, and worried. There he was, covered in bruises and stitches, and he was worrying about her. She’d rather be bleeding right now, it’d be easier to deal with than her thoughts tumbling around the hamster wheel that her brain currently was.

“Nothing...nothing.” Because saying it twice makes it true, don’t you know. She carefully perches the folder on her lap and scrubs her hands slowly up over her cheeks to her eyes, then back down again. “Like you said...been a long couple days.”

Vague, sure, but not a lie. The silence is too loud, and Marcia doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s frowning.

“Yeah...it has.” He sounds utterly unconvinced but he doesn't press it any further.

She doesn't give him time to. “I’m looking for two people, young adults. Bethany Isaacson and Azra Hassan. They went missing from Chelsea and Greenwich Village respectively within the last month. From what information I was able to gather, I believe that they were moved through that warehouse recently.”

Matt is frowning for a different reason now. He shakes his head. “Those names...unfortunately, I haven’t come across them in my search.”

“Not surprising. They were trying to stay off the grid, which is working against them now.” Like it had worked against her. This was different though; she knew they were missing, and she was going to find them. She lets out a steady breath. “They have abilities...powerful ones. They were taken by an organization that wants to experiment on them. Exploit their _gifts_.” Bitterness seeps into the last word. ‘Curse’ felt more appropriate sometimes.

Matt is composed, other than the set to his jaw. “That’s terrible.”

Marcia nods. “It doesn’t get better, I’m afraid. They have access to a drug...some kind of inhibitor they perfected in a lab. They use it on people with abilities to nullify their powers. Makes it easier to catch them, and...well…” _Keep them like fucking lab rats._ Her voice trails off, and she realizes that she’s gripped the armrest on the chair so hard that her nails threaten to poke through the fabric. She lets go.

Matt’s head seems to tilt toward her hand for the briefest of seconds, before he lifts it back up. “You seem to know quite a bit about this organization.”

There’s a question hidden in there somewhere, and he was leaving her to find it. He deserved more information if he was going to be a part of this. Even if it came dangerously close to poking at a sore spot she would rather avoid. “There was a lab that was destroyed a couple years back, run by a man named Hizen. They were doing the same shit. I worked with a special group to investigate, but unfortunately, there wasn’t much that was salvaged from the rubble.” Except her. Only her. Her heart raced. “The little we did get talked about the drug being used...they called it “Void”. We did what we could to investigate and make sure there weren’t any other labs, then we went our separate ways.” Marcia shifts to cross her legs in the armchair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “I was approached over a month ago in Virginia by the head of the group. The same MO had started to pop up again, and he asked me if I could work on the case independently. I agreed, and made my way here.” 

Matt sits quietly for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowed to the point that Marcia could hardly see them over his (well, her) sunglasses. It was a lot of information to process, and also not enough at the same time, if he was as curious as Marcia guessed he was. “Those people from last night. They didn’t seem to be drugged in any way.”

“No...they didn’t.” Marcia knew the symptoms all too well; obvious ones were sluggish movement and slurred speech, and they seemed to be moving fine. The less obvious were blurry vision and decreased heart rate...if the dosage was high enough, you could feel pain and be rendered unable to react to it. _Stop._ Marcia clears her throat. “Everything else fits the MO, except this. How is it connected?”

It was a question she didn’t expect an answer to right away, one that they ruminate on for several moments. It could just be a group of thugs working different jobs, or Hizen’s new protege was broadening their horizons for whatever fucked up reason. There was no good possible answer.

Matt breaks the silence. “I’m sure we’ll find out more information from the location I acquired.”

 _We._ He wasn’t going to let this go. Marcia runs her hand through her hair and tries to sound as casual as she can. “Why don’t I just run recon, then I can report what I find? In and out.”

“Because you wouldn’t just ‘run recon’, would you?” He smirks knowingly, and Marcia wants to throw something at him. Damn human lie detector, anyway.

She sighs heavily. “Damn it, okay, fine. I’m also not beat to hell, either. Jesus, Matt, you-”

“I know.” He replies firmly, effectively cutting her off. He could guess what she was getting at. “I can’t...I can’t just sit this out. People are disappearing, and now I find out that some of them are getting _experimented_ on…” His fists clench till the knuckles are white, wanting to connect with something. Some _one_. He was itching to get back out there, the signs were easy for her to recognize. “You can take the lead on this. First through the door.” The words had difficulty coming out of his mouth.

“That doesn’t sound like something you relinquish easily. You sure you can do that?”

“It isn’t easy. But you’re obviously capable, and...I trust you on this.” He trains his gaze on her. Marcia couldn’t hear heart beats, but she didn’t need to. He meant it.

Marcia groans, trying to ignore the warm feeling in her chest. “Fine. But I swear to God, if you pop any of those stitches…” She ignores his smile as she continues. “I take point and do most of the heavy lifting, you be my ears if it’s needed. No splitting up. You stay on me, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”, he responds somewhat jokingly, then the smile fades into a serious expression. “I won’t leave your side.”

“Good…” She pries her gaze away from him and looks at the clock on the wall. It was pushing into early afternoon. “I should get you home, so you can rest some more. Just let me change real quick.” Marcia stands and stretches her arms above her head, audible ‘pop’s coming from her back as she groans softly. She then moves around the table and starts heading toward the hallway.

“Marcia. Wait.”

She stops in her tracks and turns to face Matt, watching as he slowly gets up from the sofa and makes his way to her. Placing his hand over the stab wound. She’s already regretting their agreement, but there was nothing short of restraining him that would keep him from going. Her hands slip into her pockets. “What is it?”

He takes in a breath and slowly lets it out, his head tilting downward briefly before he raises it again. “I get the feeling that there are things about this that you aren’t telling me.” He pauses for a second, and Marcia is frozen to the spot, heart hammering in her chest. He continues, his voice soft. “This is personal for you, and considering what you’ve told me, I can understand why.”

“I’ve told you all of the important details.” She is surprised by how even she is able to keep her voice. It was the truth, though. He didn’t need to know about her personal crap.

He nods. “I’m not asking for any more information. You have your reasons, and it’s not my business. All that matters to me is that we’re on the same page when it comes to stopping this.” He lifts his hand and moves to rest it on her shoulder, giving her plenty of time to move or protest. She doesn't. Her heartbeat slows down a fraction. “We’ll find the ones responsible for this, and we’ll help those innocent people.” He smiles warmly, but his stance and the set of his shoulders is exuding the resolve he has. Marcia suddenly found herself glad they were on the same side.

“I know we will.”, she replies firmly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Trying to drive in Manhattan was a nightmare most of the time, but Marcia was not going to make Matt walk over a mile and a half to Hell’s Kitchen. Not in his condition and even with her to lean on, if he’d even take such an offer. So they hailed a cab. The ride was mostly quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It was, however, hard to talk more about their plans when someone was sitting right in the front seat. They ride over halfway to their destination and as traffic was getting worse anyway, Marcia had the cab driver drop them off next to a Starbucks on 49th so they could continue on foot.

Matt grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck as he steps up onto the sidewalk, Marcia offering her hand out to him. “I’ll pay you back for the cab ride when we get to my place.”

“And I’ll refuse to take it. Pay me back with pizza and beer later, if you’re worried about it.” Marcia grins and lets go of his hand so she can then offer her arm to Matt. He had touched her arm out of habit when they left her apartment, saying that it’s how he walked with his friend and coworker when they were out and about. With everything he could do, Marcia figured it was to keep up appearances.

Matt beams in return. “Deal.” He reaches out and gently grasps her upper left arm, which was clad in the light coat she wore.

As they walk, they discuss which pier they were investigating later, and the best course of action. As stealthy as possible seemed to be the common ground between them, depending on how many people they were dealing with of course. It was a nice yet chilly day in Manhattan, and Marcia took in a deep breath of fresh air. Well, as fresh as you could get in a bustling city. It was cold and smelled of baked goods coming from a nearby shop, as if they were pumping the delicious air directly out into the faces of the people walking by. With a touch of exhaust from the traffic. 

It was a much different picture compared to the first time she had been in New York, during The Incident. It had been hard, the first couple weeks that she had returned. She couldn't step outside without being taken back to that battle. Buildings crumbling around her, terrified screams of innocent people, ones that had been saved...and ones that hadn't. Marcia could still feel the dirt and rubble cling to her exposed skin, ash and smoke clogging her lungs as she fought with every reserve of energy she had. She terrified herself and probably those around her with the _power_ she possessed. Power that she-

A gentle squeeze on her arm brings her back to the present, and she blinks.

"Still with me?", Matt asks softly.

"Heh, sorry. I was thinking about how good a glazed doughnut sounds right about now." Yeah, because her heart always started pounding anxiously when it came to doughnuts.

Matt is quiet for half a second, and either he believes that is true or he's playing along. Or better yet, he isn't constantly listening to what her heart is doing. "We can stop by there, if you want?"

"That's okay." Incoming subject change. “I know you’ve been to my place, but I’ll understand if you want to part ways at some point.” Marcia offers, albeit hesitantly, and glances over at him. She would have felt better making sure he got into his place, but it was up to him.

Matt shakes his head. “It’s fine. Besides, I think it would be better if you knew where I live. In case of an emergency.”

“Guess that’s a good point.” After Matt gave her the street he lived on, a beat of silence passed between them. She wanted to ask him something, but she didn’t want to come off as insensitive or rude. Her brain was still processing all the things he could do.

“I have really good hearing, but that doesn’t mean I can hear thoughts.” Matt keeps his head cocked to the side. The corners of his lips pull upward into a smile when Marcia laughs softly. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was...curious about something.”

“Naturally.” He turns his head to gaze at her.

“Would you be able to find my place again, if you had to? Like if you didn’t have the street number, or anything?” She quickly gazes over at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He seems amused more than anything else.

“Is that a challenge, Marcia?”

His voice takes on a slightly deeper tone, one she hasn’t heard yet, and it hits her just as unexpectedly. Matt had talked about being able to feel subtle shifts in temperature, and Marcia finds herself wondering if he could feel the flush of heat that slowly creeped up her face. _Good Lord, focus up._ She quietly clears her throat. “No. Like I said, only curious.”

Marcia is regretting the sunglasses at this point, because even though he couldn’t see, they covered a good chunk of his expression. All she could make out was the innocent, friendly smile, damn it.

Matt nods. “I probably could, yes. Knowing you live on the eastside of Midtown helps quite a bit.” He goes to say something else, but stops and rethinks it. “Will I have to track you down?”

“As interesting as that would be, no. I won’t do that to you.” Marcia glances over at him with a smirk as he chuckles. “East 57th and 3rd, next to a fancy diner. Apartment 309.”

He listens intently, commiting the information to memory, and nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a win-win, because now you know where to have that pizza delivered. Pepperoni, FYI.”

Matt gently tugs on Marcia’s arm so she knows they need to cross the street here, and she stops walking. “You wouldn’t want any company?” The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk again. Who knew a dent in someone’s cheek could be so... _cute._

Shit. No. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by her how easy it was to banter with Matt, or that he was a rather attractive man basically in every aspect. The idea that he could be possibly flirting with her excited and terrified her in equal measure. A tingle that went up her spine while she also felt the need to launch herself onto the nearest rooftop. More than likely, as she did most of the damn time, she was reading too much into things. _The mission. Focus._

Marcia starts crossing the street. “Well, you would need to bring the beers, so I suppose I would.” She smiles faintly and Matt hums softly before they both fall silent.

They make their way into Matt’s building, and as they step onto the landing, they don’t make it more than a few feet before Matt suddenly stops moving. He lets go of Marcia’s arm and places his own in front of her abdomen to halt her.

“ _Wait_.”, he whispers. His head makes the tiniest of movements as he focuses his senses down the hallway.

His tense demeanor puts Marcia on high alert as her hands go to her side. “What is it?”

“Someone’s in my apartment.”


	6. Certain Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcia meets an important person in Matt's life, things get a bit tense, and Marcia ponders over attachments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My portrayal of this new character needs a loooot of work, I feel like. I've been watching past episodes so I can continue to work on it, and hopefully I'll do better as time goes along. xD I hope you enjoy! The action is coming!

“Shit.”

It’s the best response that Marcia can muster as she glares down the hallway, racking her brain for a plan. It was obvious by Matt’s reaction that he wasn’t expecting anyone to be in his home, so what then? Did someone find out his real identity and decide to pay him a little visit? Her fingers flex angrily, the familiar crackling of golden energy snaking its way around her palm.

That’s a decision they’d soon come to regret.

The heavy, labored breathing coming from the man next to her takes hold of her attention. Matt was hunched over slightly, sweat beading on his forehead while a droplet trickled down the side of his face. Damn, he was done. His body could tell that they were close to the finish line and was commencing shut down mode. The crackling energy ceases; first things first.

Marcia gingerly grabs the arm that is barred in front of her and moves to place it around her shoulders, gently clasping him by the wrist. Matt tenses, but there was no further resistance as she fit his arm in place. Good, because she was far from being in the mood to deal with the tough guy act. “I’ll check it out, after we set you down somewhere-”

“Hold on.”, Matt whispers hoarsely. His face screws up in concentration, and Marcia is almost certain that she sees him sniff the air. A short moment passes, and he’s sighing. Relieved. “It’s just Foggy.”

Marcia raises her eyebrows. Damn it, he was worse off than she thought. Was it late signs of a concussion? “It’s...actually pretty clear outside?”

Matt chuckles, but it’s cut off by a groan as he reaches around with his free hand to place it over his side. “No, I mean...it’s my friend. The one I mentioned before. It’s a nickname.”

“Oh...well, that’s a relief. In more ways than one.” It’d be _real_ unfortunate if someone was walking around with ‘Foggy’ as their legal name. The relief is short lived however, as another thought hits her. “Does he know about, well... _you_?”

“Yeah…” Matt says in such a way that it almost sounds like an ‘unfortunately’ could be tacked on to the end of it. Almost.

Marcia frowns. Meeting a friend of his hadn’t been on the agenda today. The plan was to see him home safely and be on her way until they met up again later. Now, there was another person in his apartment. One that knew about Matt being a vigilante, and one that would probably want to know what was going on.

Matt must have sensed her hesitation. “I’ll understand if you need to go, I can manage.” He made no move to take his arm off of her though, and he was sounding rougher by the second.

“No, you can’t. I’m not gonna let you crawl to your apartment door.” Marcia huffs, then she moves her other arm around his back and firmly places her hand on his waist before she starts to take slow steps. She was already piecing together something of a story that would carry her through this next part. “How in the world do you know it’s him?”

“His heartbeat...and I can smell him.”

_Oh_. So she hadn’t been imagining things a moment ago. “You can identify someone by their _heartbeat?_ And _smell?_ That’s...incredible. Well, the latter, probably not in some instances.”

Matt smiles weakly. “You’re not wrong.”

Marcia wonders what she smells like to him, and she quickly pushes that thought out of her brain. Any way of asking that would just come off as creepy, she was sure of it.

They reach the door and Marcia lets go of Matt’s wrist so she can try the knob. It’s locked, of course, so she knocks. Before she can hold on to Matt again, his arm is sliding down her back to hang loosely at his side.

“Thank you, Marcia. I’m good now.” He smiles briefly, a flicker of pain flashing across his features as he attempts to stand up as straight as possible. His jaw tightens. She was about to insist that he can lean on her, it wasn’t an issue, but understanding dawns on her. It was easy to recognize the act since Marcia had done it before herself: Matt didn’t want someone he cared about to worry about him. He had to appear strong.

Even though Marcia nods once, that didn’t stop her from having those feelings. Especially since she had the whole story. She chews at her bottom lip as footsteps get closer to the door. The urge to insist that he stay the hell home tonight and let her handle things rises fiercely up her throat, and she swallows it down with difficulty. Only insane people do the same thing over and over again and expect a different result, right?

“Who is it?” A male voice on the other side of the door asks, uncertain.

Matt takes a breath in and lets it out in a sigh. “It’s me, Foggy.”

“Matt?! Finally! Damn it, I’ve been worried-” There’s a metallic _clunk_ and the door swings open. Foggy immediately looks from Matt to Marcia, blinking a few times. Seems she was as unexpected as Foggy had been. “Oh. Heeeey. Sorry, I, uh...I didn’t know someone was with you.”

Marcia flashes her most charming smile, her hand raising to offer a small wave. Foggy nods once, showing a half smile that barely lasts as long as the nod.  
“It’s okay, Fog.” Matt breathes out as he steps through the doorway, his hand immediately reaching out to feel along the wall. “Please, come in if you’d like.”

As Marcia looks from Matt to the man in front of her, this would have been the perfect opportunity for her to leave. Even as Foggy watches his friend with concern, there was a tension building in the air. The set to his shoulders, the way he roughly ran his hand through his longer blonde hair. There was no real _reason_ for it, but a familiar surge of protectiveness took hold of her. So when Foggy gazes at her once again before following after Matt, she steps over the landing and shuts the door behind her.

Once she enters the living room, Marcia takes in her surroundings. The word ‘bare’ comes to mind, which was by no means a negative thing. It was functional, open concept. Bedroom on the left, kitchen on the right and bathroom somewhere past that, she guessed. She took in the large windows and overall location, eyebrows raised appreciatively. What exactly did he do for a day job that he could afford such prime real estate?

Her attention is brought back to the two men to her right, as Foggy was trying to help Matt settle on the couch.

“Foggy, I got it. Really.” Matt chuckles breathily, just enough so he doesn’t set his ribs off into more spasms.

Foggy dismisses him with a huff. “Yeah, you really _did_ get it, it looks like. Just let me at least help you with this, huh?” He holds onto Matt’s arm with one hand, the other reaching around to hold his shoulder. Slowly, he helps ease Matt down so his head was leaning back against the arm of the couch.

A sigh escapes Matt, no doubt welcoming the break from being vertical. “Thanks...Foggy, this is-”

“Marie.” The name rolls off her tongue smoothly, an alias she hasn’t used in awhile but still familiar. She takes a few steps closer to the coffee table as he straightens. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” He responds with a smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes as he offers his hand to her, and she shakes it firmly. His uncertainty was palpable, and she could understand why. He didn’t know what she knew, _if_ she knew anything at all, about who Matt really was. His gaze flashes to Matt before returning to her. “Thank you for everything you’ve done to help my friend. I’d hate to think what would have happened if someone like you hadn’t come along.”

Marcia smiles warmly. “I’m only thankful that I was in the right place at the right time.”

Foggy nods, his brows furrowed, thinking of how to proceed across this tightrope act of a conversation. “So...what happened exactly? I mean, do you know-”

“Foggy.” Matt’s voice is firm, and Marcia looks over at him. At some point, he had removed the sunglasses and set them on the table. Now his gaze was cast in her direction, as if asking how she wanted to proceed.

“Alright, alright…” Foggy mutters and rubs his forehead. The poor guy looked exhausted.

The story she had begun to spin in the hall was now swirling around in her head. It had been a good one, too. She was an out of towner that found a blindfolded man in an alley, apparently beaten within an inch of his life in a mugging. Her, being an EMT, had helped the best that she could because the man insisted on no hospital, poor thing. He must have been deathly afraid of them for some reason. However, as she stood there and stared between the two men in front of her, the threads started to dissolve into nothingness. Hopefully, she didn’t end up regretting this later.

Marcia lets out a heavy sigh. “I know about Matt. I’m investigating the same case that he is.”

“What?”

“Wait, what?”

Matt and Foggy respond at virtually the same time, surprised for different reasons. Foggy crosses his arms. “Not law enforcement, I’m guessing...or more like _hoping_. So what then, a superhero? Another vigilante? I don’t think I’ve seen you in the news before.”

Marcia can’t help but chuckle. “Definitely not a superhero...yeah, I guess a vigilante. And I’m not really from around here.”

“Man, does no one believe in the justice system anymore??” Foggy groans and paces next to the couch. “And now I know and am associated with not just one, but _two_ vigilantes. How did this become my life?”

“Foggy, just take a breath and-” Matt tries to interject.

“Hey, man, I’m not asking you to be my bestie or anything. We don’t even have to see each other again, I’m just trying to be straight up with you so Matt doesn’t have to lie for me.” Marcia says, holding her hands up in front of her somewhat defensively. Fuck, she didn’t need this. She could feel Matt’s eyes on her again, but she doesn’t look at him.

Foggy shakes his head and lets out a breath. “Look, I just...don’t get me wrong, I really am grateful for what you’ve done to help Matt. If you didn’t help him, he’d probably be…” He stops and looks pointedly at Matt. “And I’m really fucking glad you’re still breathing, Matthew. But what happens when next time, you…” Foggy can’t bring himself to finish that sentence, he doesn’t need to. There are only a few ways a sentence like that ends.

Matt moves to sit up slightly, his voice taking on a solemn tone. “I was reckless last night...and angry. I made a mistake, and...I know I need to be more careful, Fog. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Foggy stops pacing, his jaw working furiously underneath the skin. There was more he wanted to say, but not in front of the stranger that occupied the living room with them. He nods. “Okay. So what now? Are you two gonna be the dynamic duo of Hell’s Kitchen?”

This time, Marcia gazes over at Matt. He’s smirking, the little shit. “As long as I don’t have to wear spandex and a cape, I guess so. At least for this case.”

“So you’d consider wearing spandex for another case?” Matt says jokingly.

“Damn, poor Matt. Not being able to see and all.” Foggy chuckles quietly.

Good Lord, there was two of them. Marcia rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, but she does a terrible job of hiding the half grin that breaks out across her face. “You know what I mean. Anyway...I’d like to change that bandage on your forehead before I leave. You got a first aid kit?”

“Yeah. I’ll get it.”

“NO.” Marcia and Foggy both exclaim at the same time before looking at each other. Foggy smiles, a hint of an apology to it. He didn’t need to be sorry, he had every right to be apprehensive before, but they shared common ground. They were both genuinely concerned about Matt’s well being. Marcia nods to say ‘apology accepted’.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

After Foggy retrieved the kit from the bathroom, Matt insisted that he go out and get some coffee and something to eat. He claimed he could hear Foggy’s stomach growling over almost everything else. Foggy finally conceded once Matt also told him that he wouldn’t mind a bite to eat as well. If Matt only said it to get the man out the door, it worked.

Once the door to the apartment closed, Marcia was snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. Matt was sitting in the middle of the couch, head tilted back at a slight angle while she grabbed the supplies she would need. Neither of them spoke, until Marcia was kneeling on the cushion to Matt’s right so she could get to work.

“Why did you tell him the truth?” Matt finally asks, wincing as Marcia was removing the bandage, the tape pulling at his skin.

Marcia doesn’t answer right away as she mulls it over. Why indeed. “Seemed like less of a hassle than a lie. Funny how that works sometimes.”

“You said...so I wouldn’t have to lie for you.”

She pauses, then finishes removing the bandage and sets it aside. “I don’t wanna make assumptions, but...I’m guessing that things between you two are a bit tense?” When Matt sighs quietly and closes his eyes, that's all the answer she needs. Marcia could be perceptive, too. “From the way you said some things, and what he said when he was helping you sit down...I don’t know.” She grabs the packet containing an antiseptic cleansing wipe and opens it with her teeth. Matt opens his eyes once again and tilts his head a fraction more her way, but he stays quiet. Waiting for her to continue.

She clears her throat quietly. “The few people that I know, that I’m somewhat close with...they know about me and what I can do, because they’re the same way. In one way or the other. I’ve never been close to someone that I had to keep that secret from, so I can’t imagine what that’s like.” After she cleanses the cut, Marcia sets the used wipe aside and grabs the antibiotic ointment. “And while I can agree with why you would keep something like that from your friend...I’m guessing that he didn’t appreciate being lied to.” Her voice gets softer as she applies the ointment, then she leans back on her haunches and puts her hands in her lap. “So yeah, I could have fed him some story. Then when I left, he would have questioned you about what happened, and...I didn’t want you to have to corroborate my lies, and possibly cause more tension. If that makes any sense.”

Matt shifts slowly and raises his head, his eyes moving to her face. She found herself staring into them, admiring the deep shade of chocolate brown. He seemed at a loss for what to say for what felt like a full minute, but was probably half that.

“I’m sorry...that I put you in that position.” He responds sincerely, and that warm feeling invades her chest again. This freaking man, he had nothing to be sorry about. “Honestly, I wasn't expecting him to be here waiting for me.”

“Don’t even worry about it, Matthew. It’s not like I told him everything. You trust him, so...that’ll be good enough for me.” She smirks. “Besides, I did lie about my name, so that is one thing you’ll have to keep up with.” They laugh quietly as Marcia gets the gauze ready.

“Very convincing, by the way. Your heart barely sped up when you told him that.” He leans back again, the corner of his mouth pulling upward.

“I’ve used it before-hey, so are you just always listening to my heart or what?” Marcia chuckles, the faintest bit of nervousness seeping into it. _God damn it_.

“...Not always.”

Hopefully not at the moment, as it flutters around under her ribcage. She’s suddenly aware of her leg and how it’s pressed against the side of his. Firm and warm, even through her denim jeans. The silence settles around them as she places the gauze and quickly tapes it down, because she needed there to be more space between them. Like now.

“Alright, Mr. Devil...all done.” Marcia pushes herself up and off the couch, grabbing the paraphernalia as she goes. “Hey, I know it goes without saying, but...what we talked about involving the case. The things I told you-”

“It stays between us. I know.” Matt finishes softly, then he gradually slides down the back of the couch until he’s resumed his previous position and rests his head on the arm.

After she throws the garbage away, Marcia grabs a random pillow from the adjacent armchair and helps Matt place it under his head and neck.

“You sure you don’t wanna crawl into bed?” Marcia asks. He had to be sick of resting on couches by now, although she was sure hers was more comfortable.

“I will in a bit. This is fine for now, thank you.” Matt responds, then a smile slowly appears on his stubbled face. “For everything, I mean. Feel like I can’t say it enough.”

“You’re welcome…” A beat of quiet passes between them and Marcia looks away as she digs around in her coat pocket. “I should get out of your hair so you can rest…” She pulls out two bottles, the ones from before, and sets them on the table. “Take the antibiotic twice a day until gone and the ibuprofen every 4-6 hours as needed for pain.”

“Yes, Doctor.” He chuckles lowly.

Marcia feels around in her pocket some more...it had to be-ah, there it was. “Here.” She pulls the card out and touches it against one of Matt’s hands, which are clasped on his abdomen. Their fingers brush together lightly as he takes it and runs his thumb along the surface.

It was an espresso stand punch card Marcia had in her wallet from Virginia, one of those ‘buy 10 drinks and get the 11th free!’ kind of deals. There was one hole missing from it, in the upper corner. The guy had insisted she take it, even though she hadn’t planned on returning anytime soon. On the back was a series of raised dots she had made with a ballpoint pen. His brows knit together as Matt tries to figure out what it is, muttering the numbers, then it hits him. “A phone number...in Braille?”

“My number, yeah.” She grins triumphantly. Apparently the quick Google search Marcia had done while getting ready earlier had been successful. “Thought I’d try my hand at it. Guess I did okay.”

Marcia watches as he tucks the card into the pocket of the sweats he’s wearing. If he grinned any wider, he’d end up splitting his lip open again. “Not bad at all. It may not seem like a big deal, but...I appreciate it.”

“I’m glad.” She reaches down and gives his shoulder a light squeeze. “Now rest, damn it. I’ll see you later.”

“Until then.” He replies softly as Marcia turns on her heel and heads out of the apartment.

She’s out of the building and has walked about four blocks before she realizes that she hasn’t stopped smiling this whole time.

... _Fuck_. So much for not making friends.


	7. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Foggy have a talk.
> 
> From Matt's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was working on the fight scene for the next chapter, I was getting really frustrated. So I took a step back, had a snack and some water. When I sat down again, I opened a new page and just started writing something out. Well, this happened! Just a little something in between while I work on the next part. Sorry if it sucks lol. I cant say it enough but thank you so much for all the support! <3

“Um...Earth to Matty? Come back to me, buddy.”

“Hmm.” Matt blinks a few times and resumes moving his chopsticks around in the container of pad thai that’s perched on his lap. The amount of sleep he got hardly touched the exhaustion that enveloped his entire body. Every bruise made itself known with painful throbs against his skin and muscles. Plus, all the new information he had learned ran laps around his brain...accompanied by the woman who had given it to him. All of which made it a little difficult to focus. “I haven’t gone anywhere, I’m listening.”

“We don’t have to talk about this stuff right now, man…”. Foggy replies, and Matt could hear it hidden within the concern. Annoyance. Faint, but there, and he couldn’t blame him.

Matt had no doubt that Foggy worried about him, that much was obvious. However, Matt had always tried to give his vigilante and lawyer life equal time, and lately he had been failing with the latter. This was also a time they could talk and have some semblance of normalcy in their relationship, and Matt wasn’t quick to give that up.

“I’m good, Fog. So what do you think our next move should be?”

“Well, Mr. Jameson is obviously trying to fake the numbers and make it look like he paid what he was supposed to. So I want those records. Karen is already getting the paperwork together, and I’m going to go over them tomorrow.” Foggy nods and takes in a mouthful of pan fried noodles, chews a few times and talks around them. “In the meantime, Ms. Garcia said she’s baking us a giant batch of strawberry cream cheese muffins until she can pay us.”

“That’s very kind of her.” He leans forward and sets the container down on the table, slowly, and he can feel Foggy’s eyes on him. Searching for anything that will give away just how injured Matt was, probably. Foggy wasn’t very convinced by his earlier reassurances.

After resuming his previous position just as carefully, Matt asks quietly. “How’s Karen?”

“She’s good. She hopes that your stomach feels better soon…”

“I’ll call her later...wait, you told her I was having stomach issues?” Matt’s face scrunches up and he chuckles faintly.

“Until you work up the courage, or whatever it is, to tell her the truth, you’ll just have to deal with the stories I give her.” It starts out as being in jest, but by the end of the sentence, Foggy is sighing. He sets his empty container down. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep covering for you, Matt. I _hate_ lying to her.”

“I know...I’m sorry.” And he was. It was overused at this point between them, but he really was. All he seemed to be good at lately was hurting people he cared about. He couldn’t apologize for his vigilante lifestyle anymore, but he could for that at least. “I don’t want to lose her as a friend.” Damn it, that sounded selfish.

“I get that, but the longer you wait to tell her, the worse it’s going to be.” Foggy replies and fixes a hard stare on his friend. “Trust me.”

Matt sighs and nods, running a hand through tousled brown hair. Foggy would be the expert in that, after all.

“Besides…” Foggy continues, attempting to bring some levity back to the conversation. “What’s one more person on the list?” He counts off on his fingers. “There’s now yours truly, an attractive take-no-shit nurse, and now an attractive take-no-shit vigilante. At least that’s the vibe I was picking up.” Foggy takes a swig of his beer as Matt smiles, then gestures through the air with the bottle. “Why not add another attractive, take-no-shit friend to the list? Man, you definitely have a type, huh?”

Matt grins. “I guess so. Even though I can’t be a judge of anyone’s attractiveness.”

Foggy takes in a greatly exaggerated gasp as a hand goes to his chest. “You shallow man. I’m not just talking about attractiveness you can _see_. It isn’t all about looks, you know.”

Matt holds in a laugh, and it hurts almost as much as if he had let it out. He ducks his head to the side and exhales loudly as his ribs spasm.

“Hey. You good?” Foggy gets up from the armchair and takes a seat next to Matt on the couch, putting a hand on his shoulder as he frowns.

After a moment, Matt nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just a bruised rib or two, it hurts to laugh.”

“And you’re best friends with someone as hilarious as I am? Man, that sucks for you.” He lets out a breathy laugh, then his mouth gradually drops back to a frown. “You’re not going out tonight, are you?”

Matt swallows. The question wasn’t a surprise to him, only how long it took Foggy to ask it. “Yes, I am.”

Foggy groans, exasperated. “Matt-”

“As back up.” Matt pauses and turns his head toward Foggy. “Only to help Marie, if she needs it. I can help her not be taken by surprise, tell her how many people she’s dealing with. That kind of thing.”

“So not only are you actually _working_ with someone else, but you’re letting her take the lead? Who are you and what have you done with Matthew Murdock?”

“It’s what we managed to agree on...she offered to go on her own a few times.”

“Yeah, probably so all of her hard work to keep you alive didn’t end up being for nothing. But that’s not what I was getting at.” Foggy shifts on the couch to face him more, his arm resting on the back of it. “I just have a hard time seeing you partnering up with anyone, let alone accepting their help.”

_“I don’t like accepting help, either. Help means putting others at risk. But...sometimes, we need it.”_

“I get the feeling she usually works alone, too. But since we are investigating the same thing, it only makes sense to help each other out this one time.” Deep down, Matt didn’t like how that sentence ended.

“I don’t like that you’re going out, but...I guess I like the idea of you having a partner. Even if it’s temporary. Couldn’t hurt to have someone watching your back.” He waits for Matt to argue, but he doesn’t. How could he? Foggy goes quiet for a moment, thinking.

“Care to share with the class, Fog?”

“It’s just...you _did_ just meet her, right?” Foggy looks over at him.

Matt furrows his brows together, confused. “Yeah. Less than a day ago.” He almost adds _Not counting the hours I was unconscious_ but he doesn’t. “Why?”

“I don’t know...she was awfully protective of you. I swear she was watching me like a hawk, like I was the stranger to you and not her.”

“You were a stranger to _her_.” The corner of Matt’s mouth pulls up into a smile. “I’m injured and she wanted to make sure I was in a safe environment. I think she would have done the same thing for anyone.”

Foggy concedes with a shrug and grabs his beer off of the table. “Still, she flat out told me she was a vigilante. So you wouldn’t have to lie for her?” He shakes his head and takes a drink of his beer. “Why do that for someone you just met?”

Matt thinks about what Marcia said earlier, while she was changing the bandage on his forehead. It was incredibly thoughtful, but also a risk. One she had taken for _him_. The faintest hint of vanilla wafts past his nostrils, from where she had leaned against him, and he can feel the card with her number on it in his pocket. He smiles again. “...I don’t know.” Foggy is watching him intently, and his eyebrows are raised high on his forehead. Matt lets out a sigh. “I think she’s just...nice.”

“Yeah?” Foggy says, smirking.

“She could tell there was tension between us. She said that she didn’t want to add to it, and that if I trusted you, it was good enough for her.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, then Foggy breaks the silence. “Wow. That _was_ nice of her, and I was a royal ass.”

Matt drinks from his own beer and swallows hard. ‘Nice’ didn’t really scratch the surface, he realizes, and he nods. “Yeah, but you had your reasons.”

Foggy glances over at his friend and extends the beer bottle in his direction. “We could use a little more nice.”

Matt keeps his head forward and gently clinks his bottle against Foggy’s. “Yeah.”

“Especially if it helps you take a break from being so broody.”

Matt chuckles airily. He didn’t brood. “Shut up, Foggy.”


	8. Personas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcia and Matt take on the second waypoint, and discuss how to proceed. Some butting of heads may occur.
> 
> Back to Marcia's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. After many drafts and rewrites, all the while trying to keep my sanity during the crazy work load I've had these last few weeks, this is what I have. This is also the longest chapter so far, even with me cutting things out lol. Just know that even if it takes me awhile sometimes, I have no plans to abandon this story whatsoever. I try not to go more than two weeks without posting, but...well, life and all that. I really hope this one is okay! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, as always, the support is very much appreciated!
> 
> Enjoy!

Once she’s sure that the coast is clear, Marcia takes a few quick steps forward and leaps off the edge of the rooftop. Before she lands on the next one, she powers up at the last moment to slow her descent and her feet touch without a sound. The energy wreaths itself around her arms and legs in electric arcs, then gradually dissipates as she jogs forward.

She crouches down behind the short wall of concrete and lowers her hood. Her hair was pinned back and out of her face, and she wore a black rubberized mask that covered from above her eyebrows to halfway down the bridge of her nose. A gift from Fury, when Marcia had agreed to help him and the others at The Incident.

She’s a few minutes early, so she takes the opportunity to raise her head and look out. The location that Matt had given her was several yards in front of her, a squat concrete building with a few rusted out shipping containers next to it. Surrounded by a high wooden fence. Yet another abandoned place being taken advantage of by thugs. Marcia clenches her jaw and keeps looking. One black van, and a guy walking along the side of the container with a gun. Everything was dimly lit, but Marcia couldn’t see any other shifting shadows outside. However, there was flickering light inside the building that she could faintly make out through barred windows...flashlights or electric lanterns, maybe. Hard to notice if someone wasn’t going out of their way to look.

A soft sound behind her, almost lost in the ambient noise of the night, breaks her concentration and she turns around. She’s ready for a fight, then she realizes that it’s Matt jogging toward her. It was...different, seeing him in his night time outfit when he was conscious. She could see how he had so many criminals scared shitless; he was quite the intimidating persona.

He crouches next to her with a smirk. “Hi there.” He whispers gruffly.

For fuck sake, even his voice was different. _Deeper_. She recovers quickly enough. “Hello, Mr. Devil. You’re looking more spry than you were earlier.” Her way of asking _hey, are you gonna be alright through this?_

“I’m feeling better.” He replies. It appeared to be true, and if she didn’t know that he was currently nursing a stab wound, she would have been thoroughly convinced. “What can you see?”

Marcia looks out over the wall again. “Concrete building with dim lights on inside. A few rusty shipping containers. I have eyes on one guy pacing down the length of one of the containers, armed. Looks like he’s guarding it.” She glances over at him. “What can you _hear?_ ”

Matt takes in a breath through his nose and slowly lets it out. His head tilts upward, then to the side. Every once in a while, it moves a centimeter in some direction. “Four people in the building...two of them are sleeping.” He listens. “Three men guarding the containers. The one you see, one in front...and one pacing down the other side. They’re all armed.” She can see movement under his mask as he scrunches up his face, then his stubbled jaw tightens. “Four heartbeats inside the closest container...damn it, one of them is way too slow.”

Marcia swallows thickly. “It could be Void. One of the effects is that it greatly slows down heart rate.”

Matt nods. “Good to know. So...there’s seven down there.”

“Yeah, that’s unfortunate for them.” Marcia replies, voice lost in thought.

“...Still thinking stealth?”

The truth was, Marcia _hated_ stealth. Now that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it, she could actually be pretty good at it, if pressed. The problem was that her abilities were the farthest thing from quiet and concealed. Just short of her waltzing through the fence, blasting a blow horn and wearing a neon sign that read ‘HERE I AM BAD GUYS’. The only reason why she wanted to go along with it was currently crouched beside her. Matt was far from one hundred percent, and storming in there seemed like a bad idea. What if in the split second she wasn’t watching out for him, he caught a bullet?

Marcia lets out a breath. “I don’t know. The area isn’t well lit, but there’s very little cover. I think we’d be made shortly after getting over that fence.”

Matt’s fingers were drumming lightly on the concrete wall. Someone was ready to get down there. “Well, we can take out the guys around the containers before they even know what hit them. Then the others should be easy enough if we catch them by surprise as they come out.”

Marcia peers down at the containers when it hits her. Oh, this was going to be so much fun. “A distraction…” She mutters. When her gaze lands on Matt once more, his head is tilted to the side while his lips pull down into a slight frown. “You said you trust me on this, right?”

That question couldn’t mean anything good, but he nods and answers sincerely. “I do...what are you thinking?”

“...I have an idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Matt may have trusted her, but she didn’t need heightened senses to see that he wasn’t comfortable with her little plan. It could go sideways real fast, so Marcia couldn’t blame him. He heard her out, though. They wouldn’t be expecting two of them, and Marcia was a literal walking shield when she wanted to be. She also kindly reminded him that she was operating at full capacity. So in short, she was the perfect candidate for Operation: Trick Some Assholes.

They now stood on the sidewalk next to the wooden fence facing each other, Matt with his head tilted down and Marcia watching him closely. He was listening to their footsteps (or heartbeats, breaths, or all of the above maybe) until they were toward the front of the shipping containers.

“Go, now.” Matt whispers roughly. Then, a lot softer. “Be careful.” He takes off down the sidewalk and rounds the corner of the fence, just as Marcia is flipping over the top and landing softly on her feet.

Yeah, you too, Matt. This was the only part of the plan she hated, the temporary split up. If it went smoothly, though, she’d be dealing with the bulk of the work.

“Showtime.” Marcia whispers as she pulls her large hood over the top of her head. “Someone, help me, please! I need help!” She sinks down to her knees, palms on the ground. Keeping her voice just loud enough to reverberate around the metal containers. “Please, I thought I heard someone…”

A somewhat distant ‘what the fuck?’ tells her she was heard, then the two men reach the end of the containers. Guns drawn, they approach her wearily.

“Who the fuck are you? How did you get here?” The one on her left speaks.

Marcia quickly glances up, being careful to keep the top half of her face covered in shadow and trembles. “Oh God, please don’t hurt me. I-I heard someone over here, and I...I have nowhere to go. No one to turn to. Please, I’ll do anything, I just need some help.”

The two men narrow their eyes, then exchange a glance. They were considering it, and _man_. Marcia was going to enjoy this next part. Her fists clench in the dirt.

“Anything, huh? Nah, sweetheart, we’ll just help you out of the goodness of our hearts.” The guy on the right finally chimes in with a smirk that’ll soon be wiped from his face. He motions upward with his gun. “Get up.”

“O-oh...you’re not gonna hurt me right?” She shakily gets to her feet, hands in front of her.

Left Guy nods towards the container. “Get her in with the others.” He turns his head over his shoulder and calls to the front. “Hey, Mike, it was just some homeless chick! Maybe they'll give us-” There’s shuffling, then a loud bang as something (well, someone) is slammed into the front of the container. Faint yells from the people inside are the result. “What the fuck?”

Right Guy has Marcia gripped by the upper arm, his other hand pointing the gun at her. Not for long as a supercharged forearm is brought down on his wrist. He can barely make a sound in pain before a fist is being driven into his throat.

“Hey!” Left Guy exclaims and swings to point the gun at Marcia. She gets ready to shield herself, but Matt appears on his left and kicks the gun out of his hand before it can be discharged.

Right Guy swings at her lazily, still gurgling, and she side steps it. She roughly grabs him by the front of his coat and shoves him, hard, into the back of the container. Sorry, people inside, you’re going to be safe soon. His head bounces off of the metal and he slides down to the ground.

Left Guy and Matt are exchanging blows. Well, luckily, Left Guy can’t land a punch for shit. Marcia runs forward, her hood falling back from her head, and sweeps his legs out from under him. A fist between the eyes, and he’s out.

Marcia gets to her feet. “Well. That went better than I thought it would.” She said through a grin, adrenaline singing through her veins.

“You’re a better actress than I thought you’d be.” Matt smirks, slightly out of breath.

“Oscar worthy, I know.” She studies him carefully, her gaze flicking over his form. He was hunched over slightly, but he wasn't favoring any particular body part. “You good?”

“Yes. You?”

“Never better.”

Matt goes to respond, then his head turns to the side as he stands absolutely still. Then, Marcia hears distant shouting.

_“Hey! What the hell is all that noise out there?!”_

“Right. Them. Like we talked about, yeah?” Marcia rolls her shoulders and Matt nods. “On my signal.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Aw come on now. This isn’t personal, dear.”

Marcia tightens the zip tie around the wrists of the last guy, who just so happens to be the _first_ guy she beat the shit out of. He responds with a glare, since there’s a gag in his mouth. The rest of his buddies are either staring at her or still unconscious.

Her head swivels to the side and she watches as Matt steps out of the shipping container, the newly freed civilians coming into view. He’s carrying one of them bridal style, her body limp and her head lolling from side to side. Bile threatens to rise up in Marcia’s throat at the site, and she absentmindedly rubs at a spot on the crook of her elbow. Long black hair flowed out behind the woman as Matt moved past and into the concrete structure.

Marcia turns back to look at the man in front of her. “I should apologize for lying just now. This is _very_ personal, because you kidnap people and sell them off to who knows what kind of hell.” She says, her voice a steely whisper. Her fist clenches to punch him, because she _did_ know what kind of hell. Instead, Marcia fights that particular urge and rises to her feet, then takes a few steps back.

Easy. The rest of the fight had been laughably _easy_ , and Marcia would take it. After the month she spent on the verge of pulling her hair out, this was a much welcome change of pace. Sure, a tougher fight would have been more fun, but...well, there was always next time.

And if that next time could be with Matt (preferably less injured), that would also be great. The way he fought tonight made her want to see what a fully healed Devil of Hells Kitchen was capable of. The name he had picked up was fitting; he was like a man possessed out there.

Footsteps crunching over dried grass brings her out of her thoughts as Matt approaches her. Her gaze moves from him to the three girls making their way along the fence and out of the area. Then back to the building where one had to be left behind.

“How is she?” Marcia asks quietly.

“Weak and near comatose, but alive.” He pauses with a frown. “The human heart shouldn’t be able to beat like that.”

“Wonders of science, I guess.” Marcia mutters bitterly, then nods her head toward the others. “And them?”

“Scared, and uninjured. I told them to head a few blocks away until the police could pick them up.” He places his hands on his hips as Marcia cocks her head to the side curiously. “I asked for their names and recognized them from the missing persons reports I’ve read. I have a connection in the police force. He’s going to keep word from getting out tonight so we can finish up what we’re doing.”

Marcia nods appreciatively. “That’s good. Stay with these guys for a minute, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Marcia fixes her stare on the doorway and makes her way to it. Once inside, she looks around. There were a few cots and cheap blankets laid out, nothing too fancy. It was more than the women locked in the shipping container had, probably. A wooden table sat in the corner of the room, and a black suitcase was opened on top. Marcia didn’t need to get any closer to know what was inside, she could see the vials of red liquid from there.

Marcia approaches the nearest cot and carefully studies the occupant. It had been too much to hope that it was Azra when Marcia saw the long dark hair. Her and Bethany had to already be at the lab, it had been weeks since either of them were seen. No, this was just another unfortunate person who had been heading toward the same fate. A bittersweet sigh of relief escapes her, and it’s short lived. The woman was pallid and Matt hadn’t been exaggerating about the state she was in. She was out cold.

Her stomach churns. “Fucking assholes used too much…” She bites out angrily and quickly rips another blanket off of a nearby cot and drapes it over her shoulder.

“Will she be alright?” Matt calls out to her.

“Eventually.” Marcia answers as if he was standing right next to her. She gently turns the woman’s head to the side. “There’s a chance she could vomit in her sleep, though. And she is going to feel like absolute _shit_ when she wakes up…” Marcia stops there, momentarily forgetting that she isn’t supposed to have a lot of first hand knowledge about this drug.

After checking her over again and making sure her breathing isn’t labored, Marcia works on carefully turning the rest of her body so she’s laying on her side. Then using the other blanket, she stuffs it along the woman’s back to keep her from rolling back over. She moans pitifully in her sleep, and Marcia places a hand on the side of her head. “I’m so sorry…” She mutters.

Marcia straightens up after a brief moment and looks around the room. This woman and the others would be safe. Bethany and Azra were still in the wind. Others that were Gifted were possibly with them. Normal civilians were caught up in it for some fucking reason. Cold air is heaved into her lungs over and over again, each one quicker than the last. Her heart pounded angrily beneath her rib cage.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It should have been done and over with when that lab blew up. Marcia had failed in making sure that there weren’t any other labs. She fucking _failed_. This was on her.

Feet shuffle against the ground. Matt must have moved closer to the doorway. “Hey…Em. She’ll be alright.” His voice takes on a tone of gentleness she hates and doesn’t deserve, like if it were any louder she’d shatter like glass.

What he said was true, because someone was going to talk.

One last glance at the woman before her, then Marcia turns on her heel and walks furiously out of the building. Toward the men tied up on the ground. Their eyes go wide with fear and she revels in it, breezing past Matthew without a glance. She moves to the slimiest looking one and grabs a fistful of his jacket and shirt. As amber energy crackles around her arm, she lifts him up with ease and slams him into the concrete wall. He wheezes as the air is knocked out of his lungs, his feet dangling above the ground.

Her other hand comes up and roughly yanks the gag out of his mouth. “Listen closely. Unless you want to suck your next several meals through a straw, you’re going to answer my questions. Where were you taking them to?”

He takes a few gasping breaths and quickly shakes his head. “I-I don’t know!”

“Liar.” Marcia slowly pushes him harder into the wall. He let out a yelp of pain, any more pressure and she would bruise his sternum. Even more, and it would crack. The others closest to their friend attempt to lean as far away as possible.

“I SWEAR, I don’t know!”

“Em, he’s telling the truth.” Matt’s voice is gravelly again, all Mr. Devil, breaking through to her. He’s standing on her right. “He’s terrified, but he isn’t lying.”

“Oh good, he’s terrified.” Her head turns a fraction in his direction, but her eyes don’t move from the man pinned to the wall. “Okay then. Explain.”

“I...I can’t! Them mad scientists will strap me to a table if I tell you!”

“And what do you think this nice lady here will do to you if you don’t?” Matt chimes in before Marcia can say anything, and she smirks. He was playing along. The leather glove on her hand creaks as she tightens her fist.

The Slimeball gulps nervously. “They-they message us targets and locations, people they w-want us to pick up. Black text is normal folks, r-red is fre...ones with powers. That way we know when to use the drugs.” He attempts to blink away the sweat that’s running into his eyes. “Once we get ‘em, we keep ‘em until we have to message those guys back. Three AM, always three AM, once we have ‘em all. Then they send us a location for pick up. It’s supposed to be different each time.”

Marcia brings up her left wrist and looks at her watch. “How many drop offs have you done?”

“Two.”

Marcia sighs. “Is he still telling the truth, Mr. Devil?”

“Yes.” He responds gruffly. “Who gets the messages for targets and drop offs?”

Slimeball hesitates. “Uh...h-him.” He leans forward the best he can and nods his head to the side. “The guy on the end.“ The one she had just finished tying up.

He tries to talk around the gag in his mouth, something along the lines of ‘you fuckin’ little snitch’, then Matt is patting him down. Matt roughly flips his jacket open and finds an inside pocket, pulling out a sleek black phone.

“Thanks for your cooperation.” Marcia says flatly, then drops the Slimeball to the ground. He slumps over and lets out a pained groan. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Matt extends the phone out to her and she grabs it. It’s a newer cell phone, and when she tries to turn on the screen, two white circles show up for an eye scan. She steps in front of various sets of legs before stopping at the owner. “Open up, dear.” He responds with an angry stare and Marcia holds the phone in front of his face. She makes minor adjustments until she hears a _click_ , and the home screen appears.

Marcia touches the Messages icon and starts scrolling through it. She’s soon distracted, however, by that guy (lets call him Dickhead). Dickhead is trying to talk around his gag and soon, he’s moved his head around enough that it falls down his chin. Matt is breathing heavily next to her, his fingers tensing-relaxing-tensing into fists.

Marcia looks from him to Dickhead, wondering what Matt could have possibly heard to have him all worked up. He had been the more level headed one this whole time. “Something you wanna say?”

“You fucking bitch! You think you’re so clever, tricking me like that, huh?! You ain’t nothing but a freak! A fucking abomination that shouldn’t exist! I hope to God that you end up in that fucking lab with the rest-” Before he can finish, Matt growls angrily and moves forward in a black blur. He grabs him by his lapel and punches him in the face twice, hard enough that the guy slumps over.

Oh. It had been about _her_. Marcia swallows hard. The words shouldn’t have stung, not coming from a low life piece of shit like him. Marcia hated that they did. Only because his sentiment was familiar to her. It wasn’t the first time she had been called any of those things.

Matt’s chest is still heaving up and down, air blowing sharply out of his nose with each breath. His head turns towards her when she reaches out and gently touches his forearm.

“Hey...it’s alright. He’s just some asshole.” She clears her throat and lowers her voice. “Um...thanks. For shutting him up.” Punching a guy until his nose bleeds shouldn’t be such a sweet gesture, but...here she was, warm fuzzy feeling and all. Apparently she had issues. _Who knew_ , she thought sarcastically.

“You’re welcome.” He says quietly, the roughness of the Devil fading briefly. He caught on to the deeper meaning behind her words.

Now that she could concentrate, Marcia moves a few steps away from their captives and Matt follows suit. She flicks her index finger over the screen, looking at the messages as they pass by. 

“Damn it.” Marcia curses and shakes her head. “He’s not as dumb as he looks. The other messages have been wiped from the phone. All that’s left are these last few.” She reads off the names of the civilians.

“Those are the women that we just let go.” Matt confirms.

Marcia scrolls to the message with blaring red text. VERONICA MILES. POWERFUL TELEKINETIC. USE EXTREME CAUTION. -END OF SHIPMENT-. She reads it aloud, then huffs angrily. “Ah, so that’s why you guys overdosed her, huh? I hope she tossed you around before you got to her.”

The silence and worried glances between the thugs is all the answer she needed.

“The text says ‘end of shipment’. So was she the last one you needed before you made the call?” Matt asks, the coldness in his tone could have made Marcia shiver.

Slimeball nods quickly, not wanting to face the fate of his buddy if he didn’t react fast enough. “I-It’s like I told you. We tell ‘em we got the goods, they tell us where to meet.”

Matt growls again but doesn’t move, thankfully. Slimeball would only be useful if he was conscious. “Call human beings ‘goods’ one more time.” Marcia says coldly.

He chooses to gulp and go pale instead.

“Do you know of any other points of operation?” Marcia asks.

“Uh, th-there’s a warehouse on the Westside. That’s the only one I know of.” Apparently they hadn’t received word about that one. He swallows nervously and jerks his head again in the direction of the guy that just got his lights knocked out. “Um...he might know?” The others nod in agreement.

Marcia looks over at Matt, eyebrows raised but she’s trying not to smile. “The guy you just punched in the face.”

Matt shrugs a little too innocently. “Oops?”

She smirks. Yeah, he seemed real torn up about it. “Remind me that I owe you a drink later.”

“Will do.” The corner of Matt’s mouth lifts in return, then he’s shifting on his feet. The dim light gleams off of the sweat running down his neck. “So. Shall I wake him up and question him, see what he knows?”

Marcia goes silent for a moment, studying him. He was going to keep this up until he collapsed, it seemed. Her gaze then lands on the phone in her hand as she turns it over and over. The opportunity was right here in front of her and she was itching to use it, but…

“Alright, fellas.” Marcia says and their captives shakily sit up straight. “Trust that we will know if you try and inchworm your way out of here, or get free in any way. And trust we won’t be happy about it.” She touches Matt’s arm and moves inside the building.

Once they get there, Matt is frowning. “What is it?”

“You need to sit.” Marcia says matter of factly, keeping her voice down. She walks over to the table and pulls out one of the chairs, swinging it so the seat is facing him.

He’s confused before he quickly catches on. He sighs, exasperated. “Em...I’m fine.”

“Oh okay, we’re doing that.” She clears her throat dramatically. “Hey, Dee. Have a seat, which is a perfectly normal thing to do when two people are having a discussion. Here’s one for you…” She pats the cushion, then pulls out another chair and sets it next to his. “And one for me.”

One hand goes to his hip, while the other rubs his jaw. “We have more pressing matters to attend to than how I’m feeling. This is ridiculous.”

“First of all...no. Second of all, those pressing matters need to be discussed no matter what, so why not sit?” Marcia sits down and crosses her right leg over her left, her hands clasping together in her lap. “Come on, big guy.”

Now both of his hands are on his hips, and he was slouching. Again, not a big deal to anyone who didn’t know what was really going on. He could be pissed at her all he wanted. As long as he sat the hell down. Not ten seconds pass, and he’s walking toward the chair. The sigh that comes out of him when he sits is annoyed, but the relief that follows leaves her smiling warmly.

Matt places his hands on his knees and leans forward, his head turning toward her. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “There. Happy?”

“Immensely, yes.” Marcia answers. “So if we question the guy and find out there’s another waypoint, what then?”

“We...dismantle it. We may not have time to do it tonight, but if the police keep _this_ sting from getting out, we can do it tomorrow.”

Marcia is staring at the woman, Veronica, in the cot. Then she looks down at the phone in her hands again. Tomorrow was too far away. “Why don’t we give them the shipment they want?”

“What are you…” The silence stretches out for a moment, then Matt straightens up. “Are you suggesting what I think you are? You want to go in as bait?” He shakes his head. “No. No way.”

Marcia turns her body toward him more and holds the phone up. “We have a way to find out where they’re keeping everyone. That guy supplying the info can drive us to the drop off point they send, I’ll act drugged up, then we can get the drop on them. We get the location, we help everyone.” Matt shakes his head again but she doesn’t stop. “They have to have the locations of waypoints stored on a computer somewhere! We cut the head off the snake, then find the rest of the people that are missing.”

“You’re making it sound much easier than it is. It’s way too dangerous. They’ll more than likely be stocked up with that _poison_ , what if you get injected with it? And I’m…” Matt stops abruptly and exhales loudly. His head tips downward and he pulls a face, like the words physically hurt to say. “Like you said, I’m not at my best right now. I can’t help or protect you properly. And we have no idea what could be waiting at that lab. We need more information.”

Marcia’s stomach twisted up, not for her but for Matt. She didn’t want him to get even more hurt. “Maybe I should go on my own.” It slips out before she can stop it.

“ _What?_ ” He asks incredulously, then he was on his feet.

“Dee, please sit back-”

“I promised you that I wouldn’t leave your side because you were worried about me, but it goes both ways. I’m not going to let you just rush in and get hurt.” He whispers harshly. Trying to keep his voice down while properly conveying just how upset he was was a challenge.

Now she was on her feet and looking up at him. _Let_ her? And he was one to talk about ‘rushing in’. “You also promised that you’d let me take the lead on this.”

He points at the ground angrily. “Yes, referring to _this_ particular operation! Anything that happens afterward would have to be under a different agreement.”

Jesus Christ, was he a lawyer or something? Marcia pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. This was getting them nowhere. “You don’t understand...” Her hand drops and she looks anywhere but at him. If he had any idea just how terrible this place was, would he change his mind? Her mouth opens to say the words, but she can’t bring herself to do it. _Coward_.

“Marcia…” He whispers, and there’s that softness again. Her heart stutters. “Look at me.”

Her teeth clench together, gaze fixed on Veronica, then it snaps to him. Matt reaches up and slowly pushes his mask upward until the edge is perched above his eyebrows. She’s frozen in place as he places his hands firmly on her shoulders, his sightless gaze falling to her right cheek.

“This isn’t your fault. _None of this_ is your fault. You did what you could then, and you’re doing everything you can now.” He swallows hard. “You won’t be any help to anyone if you get hurt, or-or worse, and yes I realize how this sounds right now coming from me.”

“As long as you realize it.” Marcia offers quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she stares at him.

A half smile shows on his face briefly, then Matt is serious once again. “We’re still...learning how to do this, I guess.” He shakes his head. “No more ultimatums. Let’s try and compromise somehow. Okay?”

“Alright. Yeah.” Marcia nods and straightens her back, shaking off the vulnerability that had a hold of her the best she could. It was hard when it felt like Matt could see (sense?) right through her.

His hands slip off of her shoulders and he fixes the mask back into place, and that was that. Matt was gone in a sense, like they had both dropped their ‘masks’ for a moment to speak to one another.

“So, one thing I refuse to compromise on.” Marcia says, and the unamused look on Matt’s face makes her want to laugh. “You should sit for awhile.”

“That seems fair.” He replies with a chuckle and resumes his seat.

Marcia does the same. “So how about...we question Dickhead out there about a possible third waypoint. If he gives us the info, we will check it out tomorrow.” She checks her watch. “Well, later tonight, now. If nothing turns up when we go there…”

“...we’ll text the scientists.” Matt finishes for her. “In the meantime, we should continue to pool our resources and see if we can find out anything else about this lab. It’s a bit of a longshot, but now that I know more of the story, maybe that will help. Someone has to know something about a lab just popping up. They have to get their supplies from somewhere…”

“I’ve looked into that, too. I had some leads from the previous lab and I checked to see if they were utilizing the same companies, but it was a bust. The first lab was all the way out in Alaska.” Marcia says and rubs the back of her neck. “You’re more familiar with this area than I am, so...I’m sure you have better contacts than I do.”

“It’s possible.” Matt smirks with that damn dimple of his, then his head is turning toward the wall that the thugs are on the other side of. “The man you correctly called Dickhead has been pretending to be unconscious for a little while now, but he’s moving around again.”

Marcia rolls her shoulders and gets to her feet. This should be interesting. “Oh, lovely. Let’s go ask him a few questions, then.”


	9. These Attachments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcia and Matt have to adapt when things don't go according to plan. Matt talks about one of his senses. Marcia struggles with the people she left behind, and the one she hasn't left yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was blessed with four days off in a row and a lot of free time, thank goodness. I'm so excited for where these next few chapters are going and I hope you enjoy them as well!  
> You guys are the absolute best! <3

Dickhead didn’t know jack shit about any other waypoints.

Neither did the others, unsurprisingly. If the man who was seemingly in charge of the group didn’t know, why would they. The existence of another one hadn’t been a sure thing, so it wasn’t a huge loss. If there were any more, the lab probably had that information. This was one step closer to the plan of action that Marcia really wanted to take, so to her it was good news.

It hadn't been a complete waste of time, at least. They were able to get the phone unlocked, and Marcia grilled Dickhead about how they sent messages back and forth. Code words, format, that kind of thing. He didn't want to be helpful at first, but Matt managed to convince him that it was in his best interest to do so. Simply put, he was going to punch him in the face again if he didn’t. Marcia also took his van and stashed it somewhere safe, because she figured they would be looking for that particular vehicle and she didn't want to raise any suspicions at the future drop off.

Now, Marcia and Matt were perched once again where they had begun the evening, the rooftop across the street. Watching as New York’s finest hauled the assholes out and into the back of undercover police vans. The dim streetlights did nothing but make them look even more pathetic. Although, when Slimeball was hauled out, a pang of sympathy hit her right in the gut.

“Hate saying this, but...I do feel a little bad for Slimeball.” She mutters.

“Who?” Matt asks, amusement slipping into the word.

“Oh. The guy I roughed up for information.” After questioning Dickhead and the others, Slimeball started going on and on about his mom being sick and he was just trying to help pay for her treatments and medication. When he was approached about the job, they had made it sound like they were helping these people. By the time he realized that wasn’t the case, he was in too deep. Young and not too bright, but...damn. Still, he was guilty like the others even if his heart wasn’t in a nefarious place.

Matt sighs deeply. “Yeah. I guess I do, too. If he cooperates with the police like he did with us, maybe he can get a plea deal.”

They go quiet once again, then Marcia hears the faint rattle of wheels rolling on the sidewalk. The EMTs were wheeling out Veronica at a brisk pace. The streetlights didn’t do her any favors, either. She was impossibly pale. That damn picture of herself flashes in her mind and she shakes it off. Didn’t need that shit right now.

“Have they said what hospital they’re going to?” Marcia asks softly.

Matt is silent, his head moving in that way it does when he’s listening. “Metro General.” He answers after a moment.

Marcia nods and reaches into her pocket, fishing out her phone. She finds Fury’s number and starts texting.

Matt perks up and turns toward her. “Who are you contacting?”

“I’m cashing in a chip.” Marcia responds and glances up at him to see if he catches her meaning. The small, confused frown flattens into a line and he nods. “The paramedics probably gave her Narcan since she appears to have overdosed on drugs, which may help a fraction. However, when she wakes up, in pain and confused...well.” Marcia shakes her head. “Normal hospital isn’t really equipped to help someone who’s Gifted, frightened and miserable. I can have her discharged to people that can take care of her.” Marcia sends the message and stuffs the phone back in her pocket.

“That’s good to hear.” Matt says and slowly shakes his head. “Whatever that drug is, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. It’s... _wrong_.”

Since the last of the prisoners had been locked inside the vans without incident, Marcia crouches down and turns so her back is leaning against the concrete lip of the roof. Once things cleared out down there, they could be on their way. A huff of air leaves her mouth in a white fog. “I’d have to agree. I can only go by what I see and feel…” Past experience, too, that spot on her arm reminds her annoyingly as it prickles. She glances over at the black suitcase next to her and swallows. “I can’t imagine what it feels like to you.”

Marcia watches as Matt gingerly moves and opts to sit cross legged, facing her. His knee only a couple inches away from touching her thigh.

“It throws off the physiology of the body. Not just the heart, but the way the blood moves through the vessels. Her other organs were in chaos, not threatening to shut down, but...it's hard to explain. The way she smelled. Everyone has their own unique smell, but all I could make out were whatever chemicals that garbage has in it.” He goes quiet, his hands messing with the straps on his gloves. More for them to have something to do than to actually tighten them, it looks like. Matt tips his head toward her. “If we’re going through with your plan, we have to be careful.” He opens his mouth to say more, but quickly closes it. She was starting to see why he was so hesitant about rushing in.

“I know.” Marcia says softly as she gazes over at him. “The last thing either of us needs is that shit. I’ll watch your back, you watch mine.” Matt’s solemn expression breaks way to a slight grin and Marcia realizes what she said. She chuckles. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. Since I can’t ‘watch your back’, though, I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination.” He tilts his head down briefly to hide a full blown smile. “That sounded better in my head.”

“I bet it did, perv.” Marcia slaps his knee as the apples of her cheeks burn underneath the mask. The moment of levity was a welcome change in the midst of a stressful night. It was a successful one, though. As she listens to the various vehicles on the street speed away, she reaches up and stifles a yawn. The on-alert tenseness leaves her body, replaced with the need to rest. Would she actually be able to sleep, though, was the question. “Are we good to move out?”

Matt listens for a moment, then nods. “Yeah. The street is clear.” He gets to his feet carefully and holds a hand out to her.

Marcia grabs the handle of the suitcase in one hand, the other hand grabbing onto Matt’s and she pulls herself up. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Matt says as she takes a step away from him. “Hey, if you’re feeling too tired to make it home, you can stay the night at my place. I mean, if you want to.”

A tempting offer. The thought of going all the way to East Midtown right now did not sound appealing at all. “I wouldn’t be putting you out if I crashed on your couch?”

“Actually, I was thinking the bed.”

Even though that couldn’t possibly be what he was getting at, something stirred inside of her while her heart skipped a beat. It didn’t help that his voice was quiet and rough at the same time. For fucks sake. Time to play it off with something witty. “My goodness, Dee. You haven’t even bought me that pizza yet.”

The part of his face not covered by the mask turns red, and she couldn’t lie, that was satisfying. Given how he’d already made her blush a couple times now. He still managed a smug smile, though. “You didn’t let me finish. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t know, making an injured man sleep on his lumpy couch while I take the bed seems like a dick move.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well it's a good thing you’re not making me and I offered. There’s a logical reason why.”

“...and that is?”

“Guess you’ll find out if you stay.” He shrugs a shoulder and crosses his arms in front of his chest, giving off the subtle air of someone who was okay with whatever she decided.

They’re quiet as a cold breeze comes off from the water and moves around them. Marcia tucks her gloved hands into the pockets of her jacket. A part of her knows she should just go back to her apartment and get a hold of Matt when it was time for their next outing. The other part, that _selfish_ part, enjoyed his company and didn’t want it to come to an end just yet. Did he feel the same way, or did he want to keep an eye on her so she didn’t do something stupid? That was probably more likely. God, and why the hell did she care so much about what he _thought?_

She was in trouble. _Focus up_.

A sigh of mock annoyance escapes her lungs as she cocks a hip to the side. “I _guess_ I’m going to find out, then. I should check out how much you messed up my handiwork, anyway.” Ah, there was a valid reason, yep.

He smiles, looking rather satisfied with himself, and starts walking backwards. “Give me twenty minutes?”

“Fine.” A smile plays around on her lips as she watches him vault over the edge of the rooftop, near where he had popped up earlier in the night. 

Marcia reaches up and starts taking the pins out of her hair, when her phone vibrates in her pocket. After removing the last one, she shoves them into one of the front pockets of her black pants before pulling her phone out.

She was expecting a reply from Fury. The text message she got instead made her heart clench up.

_“Nat and I have people on the way to place Veronica Miles in protective custody. We’ll take good care of her, I promise. I know you want your space and I respect that, just know you’re missed around here. Nat would never admit it, but she misses you, too. Stay safe out there, Marcie. I don’t want the next time I see you to be to save your life again. ;) -Clint”_

A drop of water hits her screen, and Marcia realizes its a tear as she wipes the back of her hand across her cheek. “God damn it, Barton.” She mutters and clears her throat. Her eyes scan over the message once more before she pockets the phone. Marcia couldn’t bring herself to reply just yet.

After the battle for New York, when everyone said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, Nat and Clint wanted her to go with them. A well deserved vacation before heading back to work, they had said. Marcia had declined because yes, she had needed some space. To figure things out and be her own person. Marcia had gone from being held captive for five years, to being rescued and recovering, to helping fight off an alien invasion. She didn’t want to work for SHIELD and she figured that if she took that vacation with them, it would make it that much harder to leave when the time came to go back.

Honestly, she missed all of them. They all had their part in helping her recover, physically and mentally. Clint and Nat would walk around the airship with her when she was trying to regain her strength. Clint would chat up a storm, and while it took Nat a little longer to warm up, soon she did the same. They also sparred with her, teaching her some new moves she implemented to this day. Marcia would geek out with Tony, and eventually Bruce, about things they were working on. She helped Steve learn about things he had missed out on, and they destroyed more than a few punching bags together.

Then there was Thor, a literal God just walking around. Marcia had been intimidated at first when she met him, but he had turned out to be rather sweet. He was also convinced that she was some kind of reincarnation of a Goddess, which earned her one of her aliases. They would also spar, the result turning rather explosive, and she would pick his brain about Asgard and his people.

Her hand reaches up and wipes her other cheek, then she peels her mask off and stuffs it in her inner jacket pocket. Yeah, she misses them. Even if they were probably better off without her. _Remember that when it’s time to leave Manhattan and Mr. Devil behind._

Marcia groans at that _lovely_ thought as she picks up the suitcase, runs to the edge of the roof, then hops down to the alley.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her knuckles barely rap against the door before Matt opens it. His hair was still wet from the shower, sticking up in a few random places. He was wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants, round red glasses rested on his nose. The bandage was gone from his forehead, but the cut there was looking much better.

“Hey.” He says with a friendly smile and moves to the side. “Please, come in.”

“Thanks.” Marcia responds as she steps over the threshold. The hallway was dark, which made sense. He wouldn’t need lights on. However, a pinkish-purple light being emitted from the living room makes her tilt her head to the side curiously. She walks further inside, Matt following behind her, and her mouth falls open when she sees it.

“Whoa.” Is all she can manage as she gazes at the giant neon sign outside his window. It was...beautifully obnoxious, if such a thing existed. “That’s...wow.”

“A bit much, I’ve heard.” He chuckles and steps up next to her, gesturing his hand toward it. “Hence why I offered the bed.”

“I appreciate it.” She says softly as she sets the suitcase down and shrugs out of her jacket, draping it over one of the armchairs. Then she removes her gloves and sets them on top.

Matt’s brows knit together and he takes a step closer to her. “Hey. Are you okay?”

She nods and slips off her boots, setting them next to the chair and out of the way. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

He hesitates. “I, uh, I don’t want to pry, I just...I can tell you’ve been crying.”

Marcia shakes her head and lets out a huff. She shouldn’t be surprised. “How?”

“The smell of water and salt on your cheeks.” He bites his lip gently, looking apologetic.

“Right...again, wow.” Marcia clears her throat and looks out the window. “Before I left the rooftop...I got a text from an old friend. Someone I haven’t seen or really talked to for awhile now. It was a lot, at that moment. I’m good, though.”

He pauses briefly, then nods. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of...I was just worried.”

“You don’t have to apologize for being sweet, Matthew.” She says quietly, and he smiles. The silence stretches out around them for a moment before she breaks it. “Can you show me where the bathroom is?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” He turns around and moves through the living room, his fingers running along furniture and the kitchen counter as he passes. “Right through there.” He points to the side. “The clothes you loaned me are clean and folded in there, if you want to change.”

“Thank you.” Marcia gently touches his forearm as she walks past him and into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her.

Once she cleans herself up (making sure to wash her face) and uses the facilities, Marcia comes back out and lets her eyes adjust. “You got any beer?” She asks, remembering that she doesn’t have to really raise her voice.

“Yeah, in the fridge.” Matt answers from the couch. “Can you see okay?”

“Yep.” She grabs a beer, taking note that there isn’t much else in the fridge, and pops the cap. She drapes her vigilante pants over her jacket (opting to keep her black tank top on and wear the hoodie over it) before joining Matt on the couch. “So, speaking of smells...I’m curious again.”

“Again? I’m shocked.” He replies sarcastically, smirking in the way he does when he knows he’s being a shit.

“Without sounding like a creep, what do I smell like to you?” She turns toward him, bending her right leg so it’s flat on the couch cushion and draping her arm that’s holding the beer over the back of the couch.

“I think I’m the only one at risk of sounding like a creep if I answer that question.” He says with a grin and turns in a similar way toward her.

“Well if you _are_ a creep, I’ve dealt with creepier guys, so...I think I can handle it.” Her lips curl upward when he chuckles. “If you had to pick me out of a crowd, what would do it?”

Matt’s head tips back slightly, then a fraction to the side. “Honestly...your heartbeat would be enough. However, when it comes to scent...” His tongue swipes thoughtfully across his bottom lip and his voice gets a bit lower. “First, there’s additional smells. Things you use that _have_ a smell. The lavender in your shampoo. Vanilla perfume on your skin with matching lotion, although it’s been at least a day since you’ve put either on. Cinnamon toothpaste instead of mint. The tea you enjoy has peppermint in it, though.” He shifts in his seat and seems to hesitate before nodding toward her face. “Your lip balm...pomegranate?”

Marcia gapes at him, mouth open and eyebrows raised high on her forehead. He didn’t sound like a creep at all. It was actually quite the opposite as she also shifts in her seat. What the hell has she _done_. “Uh, yeah. You’re right.” She brings the beer bottle to her lips and takes a long gulp.

“I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

She can hear the slightest hint of a smirk in his voice and she nearly chokes. Lowering the bottle, she shakes her head. “No, not at all. So if all of that is first, then what’s next?”

“Past that is your unique smell. Everyone has one, but…” He leans closer and Marcia breathes in his own scent of fresh clean skin and hair, mixed with hops from the beer. Whatever soap he used didn’t have much of a scent, it was mainly _him_. She swallows. “I have to tell you, I’ve never encountered anything like it. The only way I can describe it is...you smell like _Earth_.”

Marcia lets out a chuckle and it’s a bit shaky. “Are you saying I smell like dirt, Matthew?”

He laughs with a dimpled grin. “Yes and no?” She waits for him to continue as he tries to find the right words, his thumb absentmindedly moving across the fabric of the back of the couch. “It’s like fresh grass and flowers. Trees, and the ocean. And yes, soil. All rolled together. It increases when you use your abilities, too. Since you’re channeling energy directly from the Earth, that could be why…” He trails off and shakes his head in awe. “It’s...utterly fascinating.”

Marcia is at a complete loss for words as she stares at him. She had no idea that all of that could be associated with her. It sounded entirely too _good_. After a moment, she shakes her head as if coming out of a trance. “I...huh. I had no idea. ‘Fascinating’ and me usually don’t end up in the same sentence.”

Matt removes his glasses in one swift movement, closing them against his leg before setting them on the table. “Well, they belong there.” His gaze moves to the side of her face, yet his eyes still show the utmost sincerity. “Your gifts are _incredible_ , Marcia. And so are you. Don’t ever let anyone like that asshole from earlier make you feel otherwise.”

Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes for an entirely different reason now, her heart beating out an unsteady rhythm. God, she needed sleep, her emotions were all out of whack. This man was being way too sweet, and her first instinct was to run away.

Marcia reaches up to rub one of her eyes, attempting to look sleepy, even knowing he could apparently smell tears. “Thanks, Matt. That’s very sweet of you to say. You’re pretty amazing yourself, you know that?” She sniffles quietly and if Matt could tell she was on the verge of tears, he was a gentleman and didn’t mention it. He just sat there with a warm smile on his face. “I mean, the things you can do...I forget you can’t actually see sometimes. And holy shit, the way you fight?! When you’re all healed up, we should spar sometime. Maybe you could teach me a thing or two?” Yes, she was deflecting attention away from her, but she meant every word of what she said.

“I don’t know what you can learn from me. You handled yourself pretty well out there, as far as I could tell.”

“Well you know what they say, we can always learn something more.” Do they say that? It sounds like something they do. A glint of light from the neon sign hits her watch and she looks at it. Her back straightens up. “Hey, Matt.”

“Yes?”

“It’s almost three.” Marcia says, her gaze moving to his face. It was way too easy to lose track of time with him.

Matt sits up as well, also looking surprised that it was that late already. “Alright. We’re sure about this?”

If she had to explain her reasoning to him again, then so be it. “It’s either now or never. He said that the pickup is never immediate, and I’m afraid that if we wait for the next three AM to come around, they will have found out about the waypoints. The police can’t keep it quiet for long.” When he doesn’t respond right away, Marcia continues. “I know there’s a chance this will be a bust, but since we are out of waypoints to take out, this is the only lead we have right now. We can’t wait.”

Matt’s jaw moves underneath stubbled skin and he nods. “Okay.”

Marcia sets her beer down and walks over to her jacket. Once she pulls the phone out of it, she goes to Messages and types it in: “Shipment Complete, waiting for instruction”. Then she waits. The few minutes till three pass agonizingly slow and neither of them speak. The digital clock in the corner of the phone finally turns over, and she hits send. They don’t have to wait long.

 _Zzzzzz._ CODE?

She types ‘Orion’ and hits send.

Two minutes pass, and nervousness buzzes through her system as she gazes over at Matt. Had they already found out somehow? He must sense it, because he gets up and moves to stand next to her.

“Shit…” She mutters under her breath. “There’s no way they found out already, right? And you swear he was telling the truth about the code?”

“Yes, he was.” Matt nods solemnly. “Maybe it just-”

_Zzzzzz._

Marcia lets out a breath as she reads the message out loud. “Construction site. 30th and Fifth Avenue. Midnight.” She types ‘Received’ and sends it. Damn it, she was so close yet midnight was so far away.

“Well. We have our next move. Hopefully someone talks.” Matt says. He couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his voice.

“Hopefully. We still have our other plan we talked about, too.” Marcia tries to reassure him. She stretches her arms above her head and groans. “Let me get a look at those stitches, then we should go to sleep.”

“Agreed.” Matt slips the shirt over his head in one fluid movement and holds it in his hand. “Have enough light?”

“Um, plenty, yeah.” She chuckles and steps closer to him...trying to ignore how good he smells. _How do you turn this shit off??_ First she looks at the stab wound, then the various other slashes. Finally, she reaches up to move his hair out of the way so she can get a better look at his forehead. “Well damn, Matt. Color me surprised. Everything still looks really good, considering it’s only been a little over a day.”

“Told you I was resilient. I also had a pretty good doctor.” He responds softly. His head turns to the side as he slowly blinks, his lips turning upward briefly.

It was then that Marcia realizes just how close she was standing next to a shirtless Matthew. It wasn’t the first time, yet now...something was different. She swallows hard and damn near trips over her own two feet as she takes a step back, clearing her throat. Real fucking smooth. “Thanks. I try.”

“You should give yourself more credit.” He says simply, then the t-shirt goes back on.

“I’ll, uh, try that too.” Marcia takes the few steps to the sliding door of Matt’s bedroom, which is already open about a foot, and places her hand on it. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight, Marcia. Sleep well.”

“You too.” She says and offers a small smile before opening the door a little more. After stepping through, she slides it shut.

Marcia had caught a glimpse of Matt’s room when she brought him home, and there wasn’t much more to see. The layout was as simple and functional as the rest of his apartment. Bed, nightstands and a battered wardrobe off against the opposite wall.

The neon sign was so intense that it even helped light his bedroom up, casting an almost eerie pink glow through the curtain on his window. She steps further into the room and unzips her hoodie, tossing it on the far side of the bed. After debating on whether or not she should crawl under the covers, Marcia decides to just lay on top of everything and _holy shit_. Looks like his sense of touch was also sensitive. The quiet groan has already left her lips before she can stop it. Her bed was nice, or so she thought, but Matt’s was so... _soft_. Her hand reaches to the nightstand to set the phone down, while the other runs along the top of the bed. It had to be silk, her thread count at home was high and still not this plush. Now she sighs in relaxation and…

Marcia is pretty sure she hears a soft chuckle coming from the living room and her face is suddenly on fire. Yeah, no, she wasn’t addressing that. Instead she clears her throat loudly and reaches into her pocket to retrieve her own cell phone. She goes to set it next to the other one, but it hovers over the nightstand. It would have been rude if she didn’t respond at all...she clicks the message icon.

_“Thanks Clint, looks like I owe you another one. I miss you guys too. You know these dime a dozen bad guys ain’t got nothing on me. Take care of yourself.”_

Satisfied, she hits send and sets the phone down.

Which left her with her thoughts, while she laid down in Matt’s bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her left hand rested on her abdomen, the other ghosted over the cool silk she laid on.

Within the next couple days, they could have the lab shut down. Then, all of her energy was going into making sure the entire operation was gone for good. Humanity couldn’t afford for this to happen again. It needed to be wiped from existence.

Marcia would have to leave, then. Leave Manhattan. Say goodbye to Matt. That hurt more than it should, given the short amount of time they knew each other. It had been nice having a partner, and Matt...well. He was sweet, and nice, but also a hard headed shit. She closes her eyes.

This is why attachments suck. It hadn’t been her plan at all, but Matt had made it entirely too easy. Damn him and his likeable demeanor. And his face with just the right amount of stubble. And his dumb dimples. And the way he praised her. He was just a nice guy who was kind to everyone, and now she was all hung up on it. She takes in a deep breath through her nose and slowly lets it out. Okay. Fun was had, but it had to be strictly back to business now. It would make leaving easier when the time came. Right?

Her eyes shoot open.

Forget about being in trouble. Marcia was royally screwed, because she had a school girl crush on the blind parkour ninja in the living room who said she smells like flowers and ocean water.

_Fuck._


	10. A Day In The Life Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcia and Matt go about their day. Marcia asks an old friend for help. Matt receives an interesting phone call. Then later, it's time to go to the construction site.
> 
> POVs switch between Matt and Marcia, noted by their names in **bold**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a month it's been! The flu made it's way through my entire household, so that was a lot of fun. *eyeroll* I'm so glad to finally be able to share chapter 10 with you all! And this is now officially the LONGEST story I've ever written, and there is still more to come! As always, thank you so much for all the support and kind words. I hope you enjoy! <3

**Matthew**

Matt had the good sense to remember to grab a spare blanket and pillow from his room before Marcia showed up earlier this morning. What he had failed to remember, is that he was going to need a suit for the office. A suit from the wardrobe in his room. Where Marcia was currently sleeping.

After rolling up the blanket and setting it on the armchair with his pillow, he stood in the living room with his hands on his hips. Fingers tapping against the bones there. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her up and possibly startle her. And she...had to be decent, right? It's not like he can _see,_ but...

It wouldn’t be terrible if he showed up in a t-shirt and sweatpants, would it? Matt dismisses that thought immediately with a huff. He’d never hear the end of it from Foggy, and Karen too. Matt breathes in deeply and exhales. If he could prowl around Hell’s Kitchen undetected, then he could enter his own bedroom without waking her up. _Maybe._ Looks like he was going to find out.

His feet move across the floor quietly until he is standing at the bedroom door, and he listens.

Her heart rate was slow and steady, her breathing rhythmic. She was still well within the deep stages of sleep. He nods as if to confirm it to himself, and slowly slides the door open.

He’s taken two steps inside his room and he has to stop.

When Marcia asked what she smelled like to him, he had tried his best to be casual about it. She had been genuinely curious, and he didn’t want to freak her out with his uncanny abilities. Especially since that was the reaction he was used to getting from the few others that knew. Her scent was the second thing he noticed when he woke up on her couch, but he didn’t focus much past her perfume and shampoo. Then last night, when she had used her powers, it hit him. She was a hurricane, wildflowers, just… _nature._

He had focused more after she asked about it and now, he had a hard time tuning it out. It was faint but it was _there_ , like he had walked into a field of flowers with a storm on the horizon. It was entirely too intimate, something only he could perceive properly, and his pulse quickens in response.

Matt breathes out steadily and shifts his attention to the wardrobe. Concentrating on the smell of wood and old paint as he carefully walks towards it, as silently as he would move through an alleyway. He runs his hand along the smooth surface until he finds the handle and slides the door open.

His fingers move along the braille tags, and he listens in again. She was still very much asleep, the most at peace she had been in the short time he knew her, and it makes him smile. His bed was pretty comfortable, after all.

His mind goes to the rooftop, and his slip up involving that very bed. Marcia was quick witted, one of the things he liked about her, and she hadn’t missed a beat in her response. Her heart had missed one, though, and it made his own speed up in his chest. He didn’t know if it was because she saved his life, or what they went through in a short amount of time, but...he felt a connection. She saw glimpses of his darker side and didn't judge him, because she appeared to have one of her own. He wanted to know more about her and maybe when this was over, they could continue building a friendship and _maybe_...

Matt has passed over four suits already and hasn’t read a damn one of them. He sighs. Getting ahead of himself wasn't going to help. Moving back a couple hangers, he runs his fingers over the tags again. Navy blue jacket and pants, white shirt. That’ll do. After feeling for a red tie and whatever else he needs, he slowly turns and starts to move back to the door.

He’s adjacent to the corner of the bed, and the sound of silk shifting against cotton fills his ears. He stops and waits, eyebrows raised high.

“Mmmmm. Matt?” Her voice is groggy as she lifts her head up from the pillow.

Shit. He was so close. “Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you, I had to get some clothes.” He responds guiltily, keeping his voice down.

“Wha’ time isit?” She asks, words running together sleepily.

Matt focuses his senses on her and smiles to himself. She was barely awake, and there was a good chance she wouldn’t remember much of this conversation. He moves to the unoccupied side of the bed and feels for the edge of the blanket with his free hand, tossing her hoodie out of the way, and drapes it over her.

He feels her gaze on him but her head has already sunk into the pillow once again. Crouching down, he shifts his clothes so they’re laying across his shoulder. “It’s still early. Go back to sleep.” He replies softly.

“Hmmm. You?” She’s getting quieter by the sentence as she continues to drift off, and it’s absolutely adorable.

He chuckles airily. “I’m going to work.”

“Mmm…’Kay.” Marcia says, and there’s more movement. Her hand comes out from under the blanket and lands right against his, the one holding his suit in place. His breath hitches in his throat as her fingers move over his own, then they glide over the fabric of his jacket. “Good color on you…” And that’s it. Her hand slides down, touching his arm as it goes, and hangs over the bed as she falls back under.

Her breathing deepens, almost on the verge of snoring, and he hums in amusement as he gently grabs her hand. “Thanks for letting me know.” He whispers and places her hand back on the bed. After he gets to his feet, Matt leaves the room so he can finish getting ready. A smile never quite leaving his face.

He’s straightening his tie in the living room when the familiar ‘Foggy, Foggy, Foggy’ blares through the apartment. A few brisk strides to the dining table, and he picks up the phone.

“Hey, Foggy.” He answers quietly.

“Matt! You never left me a message, man. Are you good?” Foggy says in a bit of a huff. Matt could hear cars and a few horns in the background, telling him that his friend was on the move.

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t get in until late. I’m fine.”

Foggy sighs into the phone, relieved. “Good. And, uh...Marie? I know she had to basically carry your ass out there, is she doing alright?”

Matt’s mouth pulls up into a slight grin as his head turns toward his bedroom door. Marcia was still out. “She’s fine. Still asleep, actually.”

A beat of silence passes, and Matt is about to ask if Foggy is still on the line when he speaks up. “Wait...is she _there?_ ”

“Yeah.” As soon as the word leaves his mouth, Matt knows what comes next. “Foggy-”

“Mixing business with pleasure, huh? Gotta be careful with that. It doesn’t always go very well.”

He chuckles, thankful that his friend can’t see the tinge of pink on his cheeks. “It isn’t like that. She was tired, my place was closer. That’s it.”

“Sure! Of course.” Before Matt can protest any further, Foggy keeps talking. “You’re coming in today, right? I’m a few minutes away, we can walk together.”

Matt pockets his wallet and grabs the folded walking stick that was next to it. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the end of it. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll meet you outside.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Matt _really_ hated being right sometimes.

“Sooooo...Marie, huh?” Foggy starts off suggestively as they fall into step next to each other down the sidewalk. As usual, Matt forgoes his cane and holds onto Foggy’s upper arm.

Matt sighs and it’s tinged with exasperation. “It isn’t like that, Foggy. Why do you always assume that I sleep with everyone?”

“First of all, I don’t _always_ assume.” Foggy responds while wagging a finger. “Second of all, I was mostly joking earlier on the phone. What I’m really getting at is, whenever we talk about her or say her name, you get this cute _liiiiittle_ smile. I swear I could even hear it over the phone.”

Damn it. Foggy sure could be observant when he wanted to be. Matt adjusts the red shades on his nose. “Your point?”

“My point is...just be careful. I mean, how much do you actually know about her, other than she was your knight in shining armor? She also made it pretty clear that this wasn’t a permanent arrangement and who knows if she’s even sticking around after this. Watch out for the trash can on your right.”

Matt smiles as he side steps. His friend didn’t need to point those things out to him but old habits die hard. The smile fades and he’s silent for a moment, listening to the ambient noise around him. Foggy was right, Matt knew that, and that knowledge settled in the pit of his stomach. Marcia wouldn’t be the first person he’s wanted in his life that he would have to say goodbye to. He’d deal with it, like he did before. Even if he had a feeling that this one was going to hurt. As much as he insisted on doing things on his own, it had been nice to have someone around that could at least understand where he was coming from.

Matt realizes he’s been quiet for longer than he meant to be, because Foggy speaks up again, his voice sounding apologetic. “Look, Matt, I’m not trying to be an asshole about this. I mean if anyone deserves some happiness-”

Did he? “I know you’re just looking out for me, Fog. I appreciate it.” Matt smiles, albeit briefly. He needed a subject change. “So, the Jameson case. What do you need me to do?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, guys--Matt, what happened to your head?!”

Karen’s voice fills the small space as he enters the office after Foggy. Before he has time to react, she’s walking to him in a flurry of movement to get a better look, her perfume lightly enveloping him.

“It’s not a big deal.” He responds evenly. “I, ah...was trying to get to the bathroom and ran into the door frame.” Matt could feel Foggy’s eyes on him and there it was, that tension that always came rushing back in when it was the three of them. He didn’t like lying to Karen either, but he also wanted to protect her from what he did, and those two sides would always clash. Until he told her.

“Were you sprinting?” Karen asks in jest, worry there as well. Matt chuckles as she moves his hair back into place over the cut. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, much better. Thank you.” He smiles and reaches into his inner pocket, pulling out his walking cane and extending it.

“Oh, Matt, I’ll get that file that I was telling you about.” Foggy chimes in. “Also, hi Karen.”

“Good morning, Foggy.” She replies and Matt can hear the grin in her voice. “Oh, that paperwork you needed is on your desk. It’s all ready to go.”

“Have I told you you’re the absolute best lately?” Foggy beams, his heart speeding up slightly in his chest.

“Hmmm, not lately, but I think I can forgive you.” Karen jokes, her heels clacking against the floor as she heads back to her desk.

“You’re too good to me.” Foggy responds as he heads to his office, and Matt follows behind him.

Once they’re inside, Matt closes the door and faces his friend, holding his cane in front of him with both hands. “Sooooo...Karen, huh?” Matt says quietly, his lips quirking upward into a smirk.

Foggy shakes his head and smiles as he looks for the file. Matt can barely feel the heat radiate off of his face. “Shut up, Matt.”

**Marcia**

Her eyes flutter open as she takes in a deep breath, letting it out in a _woosh_ of air while she stares upward at the ceiling. It takes her a moment to remember that she wasn’t at her place. She was at Matt’s, in his bed. His _ridiculously soft_ bed. Marcia moves her hand and realizes that it’s under the blanket, which is currently wrapped around her. She blinks, trying to remember at what point she covered herself up. Throwing the blanket off of her, Marcia swings her legs around to sit on the bed. Her gaze goes to the window, the bright sunlight filtering through-

Wait. It was way too bright. She reaches out to the night stand to grab her phone and clicks the screen on. Her mouth falls open when she sees that it’s past noon.

“Shit!” She exclaims and quickly gets to her feet. Damn it, she should have been suspicious of how rested she felt. It didn’t occur to her to set an alarm, as she usually woke up on her own early in the morning. “Damn it, shit.”

After she grabs her hoodie and the other phone, Marcia attempts to straighten out her frizzy hair with her free hand. Then she slowly slides the door open and looks out. The couch was empty, the pillow and blanket returned to their place on one of the armchairs.

“Matt?” She calls out with uncertainty, gazing around the apartment as she steps out. Now that she was more awake, Marcia looks at her phone again to make sure she wasn’t just imagining things. Yep, 12:17pm is what stared back at her. Along with an unread message notification that she had somehow missed before. She clicks on it.

_“I had to go to my day job, and I didn’t want to wake you. Sorry there isn’t much in the way of food, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Just make sure to lock the door before you go. I’ll call you later. -Matt”_

So he just let her sleep. Of course he did. She reads the message again before putting the phone in her pocket and taking a seat on the couch. Her brows knit together as she stares at his bed through the open door. She remembers something about...blue. And she could swear that she heard his voice in there at one point, in her dreams, she thought. Did he wrap the blanket around her? Marcia pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. _Yes_. It was fuzzy, but yes he did. God, she must have slept pretty hard.

She sits in silence, her fingers drumming together in her lap. She had the rest of the day to kill, and as her gaze lands on the suitcase next to the chair, she begins to formulate a plan. The question is, was she really going to involve this person? A few more moments pass, and she lets out a heavy sigh. Pulling her phone back out, Marcia finds the contact and her thumb hovers over the green phone symbol before she presses it.

She’s ready to hang up at the third ring, but they pick up.

“Hey...it’s me. Are you home?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Marcia gathered her things and locked the door on her way out, then took a cab back to her apartment. After a shower, a change of clothes and another cab ride, she was now entering a building she hadn’t been to in about two years. Suitcase in one hand, cardboard holder with two coffees and a bag of breakfast sandwiches in the other.

The workshop hadn’t changed much. It had more projects than the last time she was here, yes, but it was still pristine. All metal and glass. Aside from the obvious work spaces covered in parts. As the glass door slides closed behind her, Marcia makes her way to the nearest flat surface with a clear space and sets the food down.

“Sir, Miss Kincade has arrived.” JARVIS announces through the room, and the nervousness she felt earlier comes back in full force. What exactly was she expecting to happen?

“Right, right...okay, hold on.”

The familiar voice comes from somewhere in the workshop, along with clanging followed by choice words. Also familiar things. A warm smile spreads across her face. She carefully lifts the suitcase and lays it on its side on the table. This would be the part where she throws out a witty jab of some sort, but words seem to escape her as she waits. It isn’t for long, however, then Tony is coming around the corner, drying his hands on a white shop towel.

He hadn’t changed much, not really. His eyes were different and had been, after The Battle for New York. A fight of that magnitude would do that to a person who wasn’t used to war. It was the same, slightly haunted look she recognized from the mirror.

He tosses the towel to the side on a random surface and stops several feet away, gazing at her. His expression was hard to read and Marcia shifts on her feet.

“Hey. I, uh, brought some coffee and breakfast...well, I guess it would be brunch at this hour. Knowing you, I’m sure you could use both right about now.” She cracks a brief smile, waiting to see if he would accept her offer of caffeine and food.

Tony nods slowly and moves closer, now stopping a few feet away from her. Then he shows a smile of his own and offers his hand, palm out, and Marcia’s breath gets stuck in her chest. She recognizes the gesture all too well. For the longest time, after she was rescued, Marcia didn’t want to be touched. No handshakes, pats on the shoulder, nothing. As she became more comfortable, this was the way that everyone asked for permission for that kind of contact.

A handshake wasn’t going to cut it, and before Marcia can reign it in, she’s closing the distance and wrapping her arms around him tightly in a hug. He wasn’t expecting it, but he happily returns the hug and rests his cheek on the side of her head.

“Hey, kiddo.” He says after a moment, patting her back a couple times.

“Hey, Tony.” Marcia responds quietly, then steps away from him. Her muscles relax, and she starts to wonder what exactly she had been worried about.

He must have noticed how tense she had been. “What, did you think I was going to be pissed at you for waiting for so long to get a hold of me?” Tony smirks and pulls up a stool to sit down.

“Actually...yeah, a little, I guess. Hence the peace offering.” Marcia chuckles and sits down across from him.

“I won’t lie, I was feeling a little put out from the lack of attention from you.” He says in jest, then pauses and slides the bag of food to the side so he could look at her properly. “But I couldn’t be pissed at you. Not for needing space to figure things out...not after what happened.”

Marcia lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and nods. “Thanks, Tony. Means a lot.” She reaches over to the bag and pulls out a sandwich because truth be told, she was absolutely ravenous by now. “How’ve you been?”

“Ah, you know. Been keeping busy. The tower reconstruction took up a lot of time. I’ve been working on some improvements to my suit. Globetrotting and trendsetting, etcetera. The more important question, though…” He holds up a finger thoughtfully, then points at the coffee that is closest to him. “Do you actually remember how I take my coffee?”

A smile moves playfully around her lips as she answers. “I remember that you love pumpkin spice lattes, which are now back in season, with an extra shot of espresso. And I also remember that if I tell anyone else, you will discredit me and everything I say until the end of time.”

Tony stares at her, absolutely deadpan, before breaking out in a huge grin. “Good girl.” He grabs the coffee and sips from it, then holds it between his hands. “So...as absolutely thrilled as I am to see you again. I know you’re not just here for a reunion.” His gaze moves from her to the suitcase.

Marcia finishes the sandwich, savoring the egg and cheese, then nods. Even if he wasn’t mad at her, the fact that she had called him for a favor when it had been months since she even sent him a text made her feel guilty. “Uh, yeah. I need your help with something, Tony.”

“And the fact that you called me first is greatly inflating my ego.” He smiles a little as she chuckles, then he’s all business. “What’s going on?”

Marcia wipes her face on a napkin, then tightly crumples the paper up into a ball as she stares at the black case. Her free hand reaches over to unlatch the clips, then she looks at Tony before opening the lid.

It takes him a fraction of a second to realize what he’s looking at, and his eyes go dark. He exhales loudly from his nose. “That what I think it is?” His eyes move to her, the anger giving way to sympathy, and she slams the lid closed.

“Yeah.” The word comes out a lot quieter than she intended and she clears her throat. “It is.”

“I’d heard you were investigating the existence of another lab. Guess this pretty much confirms it.”

All she can manage this time is a nod as she reaches for another sandwich. This topic usually put a damper on her appetite, but her stomach wasn’t giving her a choice in the matter. 

Tony is a smart guy, so he notices. Her metabolism wasn’t news to him. He nods once toward the sandwich. “Been busy, then?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Marcia keeps her shaking hands distracted with unwrapping her food. “I know it isn’t your forte, but do you know anyone that could analyze this shit and figure out an antidote of some kind? At least something that will help lessen the symptoms and maybe speed up recovery?” She pauses and looks down. That spot on her arm won’t stop _itching_. “Or help withdrawal symptoms?”

Tony has grabbed a sandwich of his own and he stops unwrapping it to gaze over at her. “Are you still experiencing-”

“It isn’t about me.”

The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown. “A simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed, Marcie.”

Half-hearted agitation makes her leg bounce up and down under the table. _Why can’t I know at least one person who can believe my bullshit?_ She muses to herself. Her fist comes down on the table, not hard, just a couple bumps to distract herself and make her point. “I don’t _want it_ , Tony. I know what it does and how awful it is. It makes me physically ill thinking about it and being near it, but at the same time…” She shakes her head and forces herself to take a bite, the conflicting messages from her brain and body making her head spin. Tony waits patiently for her to continue. “I don’t want these people to experience any of this. If there’s a chance they can have an easier time recovering, I have to know.” That was the truth. Getting that crap away from her because she didn’t trust herself around it was an added bonus.

He nods solemnly. “Okay, kiddo. I know a couple people I can contact and they can be discreet, but I have to ask. Why didn’t you go to Fury?”

Marcia swallows the food in her mouth and shakes her head. “Because I know Fury. As well as anyone can know him, I guess. He’d want to use it to detain ‘the bad guys’ with powers.”

“Would that necessarily be a bad thing?” He asks simply, not disagreeing but offering another side to it.

“As long as that shit exists, there’s a chance it can be used on innocent people who don’t deserve it. It’s too much power to be wielded by anyone...sound familiar?” She looks at him pointedly.

Tony nods slowly, a sly smile pulling at his lips. Hacking Fury’s system right under his nose and finding out what he was doing with the Tesseract was still one of his proudest moments, it seems. “Okay, I can see why you came to me.”

“Exactly.” Second sandwich down, and the lightheadedness begins to pass. She takes a sip of lukewarm coffee. “Are you absolutely sure you can trust these people? Because no matter what they find, it still needs to be destroyed when they’re done.”

“I’m sure. I know it’s hard, but try not to worry. You need to focus on other things.” Tony grabs a napkin and cleans his hands off on it. “Speaking of...are you sure you don’t need help with anything else?” His head tilts to the side and his eyebrows raise as he looks over at her.

Her forehead creases, wondering what he was getting at, when it dawns on her. She couldn’t ask that of him. “Ohhhh. I appreciate it, but no. This isn’t quite Iron Man worthy, and people have finally started to calm down after _that other thing._ We wouldn’t want them to think that the world is ending again.” Marcia may not be the best at being discreet, but she wasn’t at ‘Tony Stark, Iron Man, Avenger’ level.

Tony lets out a sigh, reluctantly agreeing with her. “I suppose so. However, anything involving you will always be Iron Man worthy, so don’t ever think otherwise.” He sends a sly wink her way and she smirks with a shake of her head. “I guess I don’t like the idea of you working alone-” Marcia goes to interject and he raises his hands. “Not saying that you can’t, of course! I just don’t like it.”

She nods once and suddenly becomes very interested in cleaning up her mess. There was no fucking use lying to him. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that.”

That perks him up more than the frilly coffee in front of him ever could. “Oh? And who is this person that I don’t have to worry about?”

“His identity is classified, unfortunately.” She responds in a tone that doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Don’t give me that shit, Marcie-wait, he?? He who?”

Oh good _lord._ “All you need to know is he’s a skilled professional, so let’s not play Twenty Questions, huh?”

“Alright. If you think _I’m_ going to ask a lot of questions, you better hope that Pops doesn’t find out you’re running around late at night with some strange man.”

She cracks a warm smile at that. It had been a long time since she had heard that nickname for Steve. “You talk about me like I’m some teenager, I’m a grown woman.”

He waves her off. “Yeah, yeah, so what’s his name? Does he have any powers? Tech? Is he shorter than me? Am I smarter than him? I mean of course I am. Does he-”

Marcia lets out a sigh as her fingers rub circles onto her forehead. Even though he was being a pain in her ass...she had missed this.

**Matthew**

Matt, Karen, and Foggy were putting on their coats to go out for lunch when Matt’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He finishes pulling his arm through the sleeve, then grabs his phone.

“Hello?”

“Matt. It’s Claire.”

Surprise is replaced with worry as he immediately hones in on her voice. It was hushed, but she didn’t sound like she was in distress or pain. He exhales quietly. “Hold on.” He moves the phone away from his ear and turns his head toward his friends. “Hey, I have to take this. You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

Karen tilts her head to the side curiously, but she nods. “Alright, but I’m starving so don’t expect us to wait long before ordering.”

Matt chuckles. “Fair enough. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Good, because I’m not waiting, either.” Foggy adds and starts to follow Karen out. He stops at the doorway and Matt nods at him, trying to reassure his friend that everything was fine. At least at this moment. Foggy sighs and then he’s gone.

Once their footsteps are far enough away, Matt puts the phone back to his ear. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure. Sorry for interrupting what sounded like your lunch break.”

“Don’t be. What’s going on?”

He can hear people walking by her, talking to each other, and she’s quiet until they’re gone. “Alright. So I got your infuriatingly vague message earlier, about the woman who came into the hospital this morning. You said she would be released to people that can help her, right?”

He moves over to the desk and sits down in the chair, the persistent ache through his abdomen throbbing briefly. “Yes. Did something happen?”

“They just…” She moves, then her voice gets even quieter. “They looked like federal agents or something, and they pulled up around the back of the building like they didn’t want to be seen. I’m not supposed to know this, either, but I overheard them talking to my chief of staff and they demanded everything we had on her. Tests we ran, vitals, everything.”

Matt sits up a little straighter. Federal Agents? “I can’t go into details, but the secrecy is needed so an important operation isn’t compromised. Also, wouldn’t they need her medical records so they can continue her treatment?”

“Yeah, but you’re not getting it. They didn’t just want copies of everything, they wanted all of it. All records of her ever even being here are gone.”

Matt frowns. “That has to be for her safety.” He says, more to himself than to Claire. If the people that wanted her found out she was rescued, they could try and check nearby hospitals for any record of her being there. It could be easy enough to pose as a worried family member to try and get the information. It was a stretch, but possible.

“Who exactly does she need to be kept safe from? And what the hell was she drugged with? We couldn’t get proper results of what it was. Her entire _being_ was in distress.”

“I…” Matt lets out a sigh. Claire would just have to be annoyed with him. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last. “I can’t tell you, and I’m not even 100% sure what the drug is.” A sigh of her own reaches his ear, heavy with irritation. “I’m handling it, Claire.” He responds firmly.

“Of course you are...alright.” She says, sounding even more exhausted than when the phone call began. “As long as that poor woman gets the help she needs. Should I be expecting anyone else?”

“It’s a possibility.”

If someone hadn’t approached her and said that she was needed elsewhere, Matt is positive that she wouldn’t have let this go so easily. “I’ll be right there.” She says off to the side, then back into the phone. “I have to go. Try and be careful out there, huh?”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I’ll try. Take care.” He taps the screen to end the call and places the phone on the desk in front of him, then he leans back in the chair.

When Marcia had told him about this group that could help, Matt thought it had been medical professionals that wanted to help people that are Gifted. The same group she would have taken Matt to if he got worse. That could still be the case, but...with everything that Claire just told him, there had to be more to it. And it was becoming obvious that Marcia didn’t want him to know. Why else would she text them instead of call when he was around? He thought it was because they wanted to be discreet, but…

Did this have anything to do with the group she worked with when investigating the other lab?

A ‘special group’, those were her words. That were authorized to conduct such an investigation. That seem to specialize in Gifted people. Appearing to be federal agents. Demanding that records be wiped from the system.

It couldn’t possibly be…

_Could it?_

**Marcia, several hours later…**

She watches in the rearview mirror as The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen climbs into the back of the van, and she allows herself a brief once over of his form before staring out of the windshield. He was moving around a little better than last night. That was a good sign.

“Hello again. How was your day, Mr. Devil?” Once she feels him sit down on the bench seat behind her, she puts the van into drive and starts to move forward out of the alleyway.

“It was fine. How about you? I, uh, hope you slept well.” He responds, and the words drift out over a grin.

She can _hear it._ After focusing on making a left hand turn onto the street, she nods. “I did, yeah. Silk sheets help with that, I guess.”

“I suppose they can.”

Yeah. Couldn’t have anything to do with how she felt comfortable around him, more than anyone should with someone they just met. _Pump the brakes, woman._ She wants to bring up what happened earlier in the morning, but thinks better of it. It was so fuzzy anyway that she could easily pretend that it was all a dream. If she wanted to.

Matt had other plans. “So. How do you feel about the color blue?”

The mask she wore could withstand just about any element known to man. However, Marcia was sure it was going to melt off into a black puddle due to the heat currently being generated from her face. She wills her heart to settle down as she lets out a breath. “It’s...peaceful. Calm. It reminds me of driving on the coast, or walking along the beach and watching the waves crash against the sand and rocks. Or laying on the grass and staring up at the sky after a storm has passed through…” She stops abruptly. Those were the kinds of things she would daydream about, when she was locked in that building. During the very brief moments of clarity she had. And here she was, going on and on about it to someone who couldn’t fucking _see._ “Shit...Matt, I’m sorry, I-”

“No. Please, don’t be.” He says quietly, as if...in awe? “I asked, remember?”

“Yeah, but ‘it’s my favorite color’ would’ve been sufficient, I’m sure.”

“I prefer your first answer…” He responds sincerely, and then it’s quiet. They both let it stretch out as Marcia waits for the embarrassment to run its course out of her system, which could take most of the night. Knowing her, she’ll lay down to sleep later or at any point this century and suddenly think _‘hey remember when you fucked up and described your favorite scenery to a blind man? Woooow that was terrific, huh?’_ Jesus.

“If it helps you feel any better.” Matt says after a moment, and she stops using her brain as a mental punching bag. Please, yes, anything. “I haven’t always been blind, and I do remember what colors look like. So I can appreciate the imagery.” 

Okay. That helps take the sting out of her social blunder. Marcia had wanted to ask him if he was born blind or if it happened at some point, but she didn’t want to pry. Also, it was probably something he had been asked a million times. Now she wanted to know _how_ it happened, but that could maybe wait until later. “Yeah, it does. Thank you for telling me, especially when you didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome. I wanted to.” Matt responds, his voice coming through more on her left. He must have leaned back in his seat.

They fall into a much more comfortable silence and Marcia focuses on driving to their destination. It was the middle of the week, so there wasn’t a lot of people or cars out. The people that were out didn’t look particularly shady, either, so that was a bonus. When Marcia turned off of the road and into the gravel of the construction site, they had time.

She shifts the van into Park and kills the engine. “We still have about twenty minutes to spare.”

“Alright.” Is his reply, then she listens to the rustling of fabric against upholstery as he shifts in his seat. Normally, that could be a sign of someone getting comfortable while they wait, but Marcia didn’t take Matt as the type. There was a tension in the air, and Marcia thinks back to earlier when he had called her. It had sounded like he wanted to talk about something, and she didn’t think it was about her thoughts on the color blue.

“Something on your mind, Matt?” She asks softly, her tone betraying the nervousness buzzing through her. The worst he could say was he didn’t think this arrangement was working out anymore, and she hated how upsetting that thought was.

He’s quiet for a few seconds too long, and Marcia is ready to repeat his name as if he didn’t hear her, but he speaks up. “Do you work for an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Marcia goes still, even holding her breath, and she resembles a deer caught in headlights. She almost wishes a car was speeding at them right now. He didn’t sound upset, his tone was incredibly measured and even. “No, I don’t work for them. Just _with_ them a few times.”

“Including the previous lab, and now?”

She swallows hard. “Yeah. However, like I said before, I’ve been working independently this time. And with you, of course, but they don’t know that.” Marcia glances in the rearview mirror, but he’s completely out of her view. He was leaning back against the metal of the van. She could probably look to her left and see his face (or part of it) but she keeps her gaze forward and on the half built structure to her left. “Can I ask how you found out?”

“I know someone who works at Metro General, a nurse. She told me that people appearing to be federal agents showed up for Miss Miles and had her records wiped after taking copies of them. I honestly wasn’t sure, but I thought about it for awhile. Remembering things from our conversations, and I figured I’d try and put two and two together.”

Well. Add ‘dangerously smart’ to the list of things that he was. “I see.”

“So you’re working independently, except when it comes to treating the victims?” He asks quizzically.

“Yes. Trust me, it’s the best possible treatment they’ll get.” Her voice gets gradually lower and she goes quiet. This subject was so exhausting.

“Do you wish I didn’t find out?” He asks after a moment and leans to the side, his voice low and closer to her ear. She suppresses a shiver.

Marcia still doesn’t turn her head, and she feels like she’s in some kind of weird confessional. Instead of confessing her sins, though, she’s divulging personal details about herself. Which is almost worse. “It doesn’t really matter. I didn’t mention them by name, because I didn’t think it was important at the time. And…” She lets out a heavy sigh and leans her head back against the seat. “You said you knew I wasn’t telling you everything, and that it was fine. Because we were on the same page when it came to helping these people. And I agreed because, honestly, I felt like the less you knew about me...the better.”

The ease that she says everything surprises even her. Not being able to see his face had to be why. It was...kind of cathartic. Not like when she was younger and her father would practically shove her into one of those tall boxes to confess her sins of being _different._

Marcia listens to Matt as he exhales, and she turns her head to the side to stare at the seat belt. “Do you still feel that way?” He asks softly, and there’s a vulnerability to his tone that she hasn’t heard before.

Her heart feels like its in her throat and she tries to swallow it down, then speak around it. “I...I don’t know…” And she didn’t. Ruining whatever they had between them was a palpable fear now, and if he knew everything, _everything_...Who would stick around for that? “Do _you?_ ”

“I…” Matt trails off and after a few seconds of silence, Marcia finally turns around to look at him. He was sitting up straight, listening. “They’re coming. Two vehicles.” He gets up from his seat and crouches next to her, pointing off to the right. “That way.”

Marcia glances at her watch. Apparently time flies when you’re talking about heavy shit. Another minute would’ve been nice, damn it. She nods. “Alright. We’ll wait for them to approach the rear, then I’ll blast the doors.”

Matt nods in agreement and as the first vehicle comes into view, he resumes his seat as Marcia throws her hood on to hide her mask. She’d let them see that the driver was where they’re supposed to be, but as soon as the handlers move to the sides of the van, it was on.

Her fingers start to drum on the bottom of the steering wheel but she stops after a few taps, not wanting to mess with Matt’s hearing. They were _so close._

The first black SUV pulls up across from them, the second one following suit. They keep their headlights on and Marcia squints as they start to get out of their vehicles. About eight armed figures cut swathes through the beams of lights, and Marcia waits...and waits.

Marcia’s body tenses, and an alarm sounds in the back of her brain. Something wasn’t right.

Instead of approaching the van, they stop after about five feet and-

“Get down!” Matt yells, and she’s being yanked out of her seat just as they raise their semi automatic weapons.

Then all Hell breaks loose.


End file.
